Beauty and Pain
by Digital Tempest
Summary: Street Fighter XMen crossover. Two fighters are captured by a power hungry Sagat. Now, they must work together if they want to survive, but can a proud man be humbled? Priorities are reevaluated, demons are faced, and unlikely alliances are formed.
1. Vanity

**_Disclaimer:_** First and foremost, I would like to say that I do not own the rights to the movie/games/comics 'StreetFighter' or 'X-Men'; they copyrighted to their respective owners, **Capcom** and **Marvel** - the deities higher than I. All characters and personas are trademarked to the aforementioned deities. I only own the original characters that I create to 'spice' up the story. No copyright infringement intended.

**_Author's Notes:_** This is a Street Fighter/X-Men crossover that takes more of a Street Fighter route in the beginning. I would also like to say to all you hardcore fans that this is my own 'Alternate Universe' where I play God with characters that I don't own and the few I do own. In my created universe, what I say goes. If you don't agree with how I write my story, please don't read it. If you feel you must flame, then by all means let your stupidity shine through. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, though.

Finally, I would like to say that this has been revised a bit from its original posting – just because I've grown in a lot of ways as a writer. I want stories that I have enjoyed writing to reflect this change. Warnings still apply. I still consider this R for language, thematic violence, adult content, etc. Probably more so now that I have revised it. Reader discretion is despised… I mean… advised.

**_Beauty and Pain  
_**_by Tempest**  
  
**_

**_Prologue  
Vanity_**

He secured the straps of his mask around his head, adjusting the mask accordingly. He couldn't risk some atrocious person marking his gorgeous features. His challenger would take too much pleasure in disfiguring him. His beauty was what he lived for, if anyone took that away from him and all that would be left is the pain. The sheer thought of any damage done to his face unnerved him, angered him. His beauty set him apart from the multitude; take that away from him and he was left with virtually nothing.

"Vega! Vega!" He heard the crowd cheer. Oh, how he loved to hear the chant of his name from the doting masses. Nothing gave him more pleasure – but the kill. Never the one to disappoint, Vega walked prominently down the dimly lit hallway. He lavished in the hushed murmurs of adulation from the people who saw him walking through the hallway. They moved to the side, in reverence, to let their champion by, bowing their eyes in silent respect.

"_Señor_ Vega! _Mi héroe, mi campeón, te amo!"_ A young woman wailed as she threw himself at him. He pushed the woman away from him gently. She was decidedly attractive, but she didn't measure up to his standards. While she might be fun to toy with, she was not the type of woman that would be seen accompanying him. Only women with beauty that rivaled his own would do – no exceptions.

"This one is for you and all of Barcelona!" He proclaimed causing a great cheer to arise from the people, his people. He allowed the woman to kiss his hand. It was the least he could to brighten her day; she had come all this way to see him. After she kissed his hand, she scurried away from him. Probably to squeal about her encounter with him with her friends. Oh, but wouldn't they be green with envy? He continued on his journey down the hallway; the cheers became louder and louder as he neared the entrance.

"Look! It is him!" A voice cried as he stood arrogantly in the entranceway. The crowd went into a frenzy. He held his arms up as if he were already victorious. The light bounced of his claw splendidly as he stood for his people to behold him. He walked to the cage as they reached out just to get a touch of him. Women cried and men envied him, but they couldn't deny that they loved him, not that he would expect anything less from them.

"_Señoras__ y señores, su campeón, _Vega!" The announcer said causing the cries of his name to only swell louder. Vega scowled at him, but the announcer couldn't see Vega's angry face. Vega deserved a better introduction than the one he received, and once he was finished with his opponent, he would make the announcer pay – in blood.

The blood. It was so beautiful like crimson sapphires flowing from the veins. He had a preoccupation with that bittersweet liquid. Some called it a bloodlust; he called it paradise. Each person's blood smelled different, but all was aromatic to his senses. And the taste! Oh, to taste that warm, humanly wine against his longing taste buds -- to feel that thick, natural juice running down his throat -- was rapture. Surely, this was the nectar of the gods.

"_Y su opositor_, Carlos Seldena." The announcer said, interrupting Vega's fantasy. The boos that his opponent received were vociferous; it was sweet music to Vega's ears. He turned a deaf ear to the crowd; it was time to get down to business, and he needed to be completely focused only on what was happening in the cage.

Vega watched as Señor Seldena entered the cage. Seldena thrashed around the cage with his arms held high over his head as if he truly expected to get the better of the Spanish ninja. _Another hapless amateur who thinks he is a match for me. How quaint. _Vega chuckled to himself. Vega took his fighting stance, and Seldena mimicked him. Vega saw that he held a sai in each hand. This is going to be far too easy.

Both fighters moved in a circle around each other, neither striking the first deciding blow. Finally, Seldena charged at Vega with his sais pointed for the man's throat. _So unorthodox_, Vega complained to himself as he stood his ground. At the last possible moment, Vega spun out of the way of Seldena, as if he were one of the bulls that he used to taunt mercilessly.

Seldena slowed down and turned back towards Vega. Vega brought his claw down gracefully slicing the Seldena's bare chest shallowly. Seldena looked down at the lines of blood forming on his upper body. Seldena growled and charged again obviously not learning his lesson the first time. His efforts earned him a roundhouse administered from the Spaniard. He fell clumsily.

"_Misericordia__, Señor_ Vega, Mercy!" The fallen man cried as Vega advanced on him forebodingly. Vega paused; it always amused him when his victims pleaded for mercy.

Then much to Vega's surprise, Seldena reached up and boldly grabbed Vega's arms. He shoved a foot in Vega's stomach brutally, and flipped the man over him. Vega landed on the ground with a thud. Vega quickly stood up, ignoring the pain of his body from the hard landing. This Seldena was a crafty. He had hurt Vega's pride once, but it would not happen again. Seldena stood pompously before Vega, proud of his accomplishment. Vega grinned sadistically behind his mask.

Vega let out an ear-piercing warrior's yell that took Seldena by surprise. Vega rolled towards the man quickly, stopping just before his prey, and stabbing him deeply in the stomach. Everything happened so quickly, Seldena didn't even have time to register shock. He fell to the ground clutching his stomach. Vega was almost disappointed that he hadn't gotten the chance to climb the walls of the cage and show off his acrobatic skills. Sometimes, you just had to go in for the kill.

Vega stood over Seldena's convulsing body. Seldena struggled tersely for air; Vega kneeled beside him looking in his eyes. There was something about looking a man in his eyes right at the moment of his death that entranced Vega. He concluded that it was the fascination of watching the joie _de vivre_ (a phrase he learned from a French assassin he killed) slip from the eyes in mere seconds.

"You have died a noble death at my hands, Seldena. There is no death more dignified than this." Vega said as Seldena's eyes went dull.

"Vega! Vega!" The crowd cheered once again in unison bringing Vega out of his zone. Vega stood and slyly took his mask off, giving the crowd just a glimpse of his beauty. He knew this was the moment the crowd looked forward to the most.

Roses seemed to rain from heaven onto him. He plucked one from the air and laid it neatly on Seldena's motionless body. "_Para__ usted._ For you." Vega said, turning away from the body again with little regard.

Vega then turned to face Sagat who sat in a private booth over the _peasants_ as he addressed them. Sagat tipped his champagne class at Vega in congratulation. Vega's unsettling smile covered his face again. He felt truly alive. He was a 'deity' among men. He was untouchable. Nothing—_nothing_—at all mattered except beauty and pain.

All he cared about was beauty and pain…


	2. Caught

_**One  
Caught**_

He groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. _Dónde_ _estoy?_ _Where am I?_ He asked himself as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light of his small prison. His body ached, a sharp stab of pain accentuating every move he made. He licked his lips and breathed heavily as he struggled against the bonds that kept him restrained.

"_Dónde_ _estoy?_" he screamed aloud still struggling against the steel shackles that taunted and teased him. Every time he thought he was making progress, the shackles jerked him backwards. "Let me out of here!"

The stench of his place of captivity permeated his nostrils. He gagged as the smell of rotting flesh and body waste assaulted his senses. _There is no smell more sweet-scented as death_, _but this_, he said angrily to himself, _this offends me_.

How dare he be treated with such disrespect. Didn't his captors know who he was? He was Vega—the most feared man for miles. He was the most beautiful fighter in the world. He was to be revered, not treated like some _slave_. He would make them die a horrible, bloody death, and then he would lick their still warm blood off his blade.

He stopped struggling for a moment trying to remember what led to his capture. Sagat, that bastard, set him up to be captured. He knew that barbaric beast had always been jealous of him. Vega sneered and viciously yanked an arm against his restraints. He cried out as a searing pain ripped through his shoulder.

_Sagat, I swear as soon as I get out of here I will torture you, kill you, and feed your filthy body to the swine_. He promised silently as he laid his arm as gently as he could against the cold, hard floor.

He heard the piteous whimpers coming from the right of him. He wasn't alone in his crude prison; the thought of another person suffering the same fate as him comforted him somewhat. "State your name, stranger," he said, demand tempering his tone.

"Got…to…get…_out_…" the female voice responded. Her voice—she spoke perfect English, but her accent sounded African, maybe? He was never good with placing accents, but he knew fear when he heard it. She sounded weak, vulnerable.

"I said state your name, stranger," he repeated just as unceremoniously as before. She let out a distressing wail and the air seemed to crackle and static with electricity. Or was it just his imagination? He let out a resigned sigh; it was obvious his companion wasn't in the mental position to talk right then.

"I will make them pay. I will make them all pay," he growled trying to comfort her, or was he trying to comfort himself? He shifted his body trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. It was obvious that he might be there longer than he planned to be.

As time passed, Vega found himself slowly losing pieces of his sanity. _Were you ever sane?_ An inner voice asked him. He wanted to cover his ears as her wails wrapped around the silence, engraining itself deeply in his head, adding nothing but more hopelessness to an already dire situation. He couldn't take much more of it.

Hours passed, he screamed out madly and struggled with a renewed strength. He stopped suddenly and listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the even breathing of the woman beside him. How she could sleep at a time like this bemused him, but at least, she'd stopped wailing like an animal in death. He heard the distant cheering of people. "Kill him! Kill him!" They chanted in perfect unison. Was that the same fate that awaited him?

He heard a door shift back followed by the shuffling of feet. Sagat had finally realized the folly of his ways and was coming to free him. Vega wouldn't be too sympathetic toward him once Sagat set him free. There was a rattle of keys and he heard the door of his cell opened. He was dragged out roughly. The restraints on his hands were unlocked, but the person who freed him quickly locked a pair of cuffs around his wrists as if he knew how dangerous Vega was.

He yanked Vega to his feet, which caught him by surprise. What was the meaning of this? Why was he still being treated like someone's captive? The two men pulled him along after them as if he were some puppy. He fought to control his rising anger as he tried to talk the men into letting him go.

"If you let me go now, I will spare your lives," he said to the men who gripped him tightly.

They laughed at him as if he had made some entertaining joke for their benefit. He found nothing funny. They forced him down the familiar hallway, the air thick with anticipation. He'd walked it many times before with that fiend Sagat, but never had a sense of urgency chased behind him. _To be so ugly and so bitter must be unbearable,_ Vega said to himself as they drew closer to Sagat's quarters.

He was led to a room his presence had graced numerous times—always for business, never pleasure. He had memorized the details of the room long ago. There was red expensive oriental carpeting placed meticulously in the room. Monstrous, golden dragons raced along the walls. Their gaping mouths opened wide as if they would swallow some unseen prey at any time. In the four corners of the room sat happy, smiling Buddhas who embraced their swollen stomachs merrily. They always seemed to be laughing at Vega.

There was a large marble table with intricate tiger motifs carved beautifully into the smooth, glossy stone. Sagat conducted business at that table. He often used it when he wanted to impress his possible business partners. Vega thought everything about the room was tawdry, seeming only a step better than a Thai whorehouse—if that.

Vega turned his eyes to the makeshift throne that Sagat had set up for himself. The men holding him forced him to his knees even though he struggled against them. "_You_, why have you done this to me?" Vega asked looking up at the man his captors had forced him to bow before, but he bowed before no man, especially not that gutless boar.

"Does a slave address his master?" Sagat asked, feigning surprise. Vega looked at Sagat, not hiding his obvious hatred towards him. "I think not. It isn't proper. Therefore, you shouldn't address me, _slave_."

Slave? What right did Sagat have to call him slave? He was no one's slave.

"Bison will have your head for this. I am one of his most prized fighters," Vega spat. Sagat let out a disturbing chuckle.

"But if Bison approves, then there is no problem." Sagat smirked, taking joy in the look of dread that had taken over Vega's "beautiful" face. Everything seemed to stand still as Sagat waited for Vega's retort.

"He would never betray me," Vega said. Vega shook his head in mistrust. "Never. Bison needs me. He would never turn against me. He would— "

"Fool! You've been sucked into a malevolent mind game. Bison doesn't care about you, me, or anyone else. He cares about power and notoriety. He'll use whomever he needs to get closer to that goal. He doesn't care who he has to hurt, and when he doesn't need you anymore, he'll find a way to dispose of you," Sagat said with a note of bitterness.

Sagat smiled as Vega looked away from him and tried to comprehend what he just heard. Vega then turned back to Sagat and said, "What about you? Will he get rid of you too?"

"I hold far too much power for him to even dream of double-crossing me," Sagat said.

Vega was a servant at best to Bison, carrying out Bison's assassin orders and not much else. He held no position of power, had nothing to offer Bison aside from his excellent killing skills. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew to watch Bison unlike Vega who so willingly pledge his allegiance to the tyrant despite everything.

Sagat sat back in his plush, overstuffed chair, intertwined his fingers, and sat them in his lap. Sagat looked thoughtful before he continued to speak to Vega. Sagat stood from his chair and got right in Vega's face.

"You shouldn't worry about me, Vega. You should be worried about your own black soul. You believe in the Christian God, don't you? You might want to take this time to pray to him. Maybe, he'll save your pathetic, wretched soul, but why should He show you mercy?"

Vega spit in Sagat's face. "This is not the last you have seen of me, Sagat. I will dance on your rotting corpse before I give you the luxury of seeing me dead," Vega said in his native tongue. Sagat wiped the spittle from his face and grinned sinisterly at Vega.

"You'll dance on my corpse? How amusing. Such anger for one so young. You had such potential. Too bad, it'll be all for a wasted cause now," Sagat said, stroking Vega's face lightly. He then struck Vega across the face, hard. Vega's head snapped to the side. The familiar bittersweet, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

"_Usted_ _morirá en mis manos_…" Vega hissed spitting his blood on the ground at Sagat's feet. Sagat didn't so much as flinch at the display of opposition. "You will die at my hands. I swear this."

"And you are so entertaining too. I almost hate to have to get rid of you." Sagat paused. "I did say _almost_. Take him away. Make sure he's the final attraction of the night. See you in hell, my friend."

"Not if I see you first," Vega snarled at him. The men holding Vega dragged him kicking and screaming out of from the room. Sagat took his seat once again and snapped for one of his servants. A man ran to him and held his eyes down humbly before Sagat.

"Xi-Wang, make sure they put him with the woman," Sagat said. Vega would feel that his proficiency was being questioned if he put him with a _feeble_ woman.

"Wait, Xi-Wang," he said stopping the man before he could get out hearing distant. Xi-Wang turned and ran back to his master; he never lifted his eyes to Sagat. "Bring the woman to me first."

Xi-Wang nodded and went off to do his master's bidding. A few minutes later, two guards emerged carrying Ororo into the room. She didn't struggle as she walked toward him with her dignity in tack. Sagat beckoned her to be bought closer to him. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him. He cupped her face and turned her face towards his.

"Oh, my beautiful Ororo, why must you resist me so?" Sagat said almost sadly, making her look him in the eye. His next words resonated throughout the room. "Leave us."

"A-Are you sure, sir?" one of the guards stuttered. The guard hesitated, waiting for his master's confirmation. It was no secret that most of his men feared her even at her weakest. They knew what she was capable of. "Remember, she's a witch. She might harm you with her powers."

"She will not harm me," Sagat said laughing.He motioned for Ororo to be placed in the chair beside his own. "Don't worry, she is far too weak to fight me. Isn't that right, _Storm_? Silly me, I mean _Ororo_."

His men filed out of the room leaving Ororo and Bison alone, but not before looking over their shoulders, expecting at any moment she'd attack.

Sagat sighed, stood up from his chair, and began to pace pensively in front of her. "Ororo, this could have all been yours. We could have ruled this world together, just you and me."

He paused a second to wait for her response, but she only looked at him with uninterested eyes, a skill she'd long perfected. Some things never changed.

"They would have revered you as a goddess. What more could you have asked for? What _more_ could you have _wanted_?" he said as he stopped in front of her chair and kneeled before her looking her once again in her eyes. "We could have long destroyed Bison and took his place as rightful heirs of the world."

She listened, but said nothing. She was still far too weak to speak. She was just glad to be out of her diminutive prison. She closed her eyes and shuddered as she thought about the hell she had just endured at the hands of that man. He still kneeled before her, but even kneeling he was still a dauntingly large man.

"With or without you, Ororo, I will overtake Bison, and I will rule this place. I'm asking you one last time; join me. Be my queen," he said his eye lighting up menacingly.

Ororo took a deep breath. "Sagat, a world ruled by you is no world at all. I would rather be dead. But dead or alive, with or without me, as you put it, my friends will stop you." Saying just those few words took so much out of her, but they needed to be said. Her stance wouldn't be compromised by promises of power.

"You and your friendship shit, almost brings a patriotic tear to my eye. Don't you see? Your friends can't stop destiny," Sagat said punctuating his words. He ran a single finger down the contour her jawbone. "Very well, you've made your decision, and I can't force you to change your mind. Well, I could, but…"

He stood back to his full height and called for his guards. "Take her, put her with Vega. Prepare them for their deaths," Sagat said coldly. The men towed Ororo from the lavish room. She suddenly became fearful, but she didn't struggle against her captors. Were they taking her back to that prison? She let out a small moan of apprehension.

"No…" she managed to say. She didn't want to go back; she didn't know if she could take much more of it. She would go completely insane if she were put back in her confines.

"The witch speaks," one of the guards said. They both laughed at her. "Don't worry, witch, you'll soon be in your rightful place in hell with the rest of your kind."

They didn't take her back to her cage instead the led her to the door of a room. She heard maniacal screaming coming from the room. "I will not be treated like street trash!" she heard the voice behind the door yell. The voice was familiar. Was that the voice of the man who tried to speak to her earlier in the stockades? Yes, it was him, and from the sound of things, he was causing an uproar.

Her captors opened the door. The man was going into a frenzy. He had somehow freed himself from the rope bonds that had secured him to a chair only moments before. Two men tried to restrain him, but he threw his simple, wood chair at them. The chair missed one of the men's head by inches. It smashed against the wall sending splinters flying.

"Hold the witch while I help with Vega," the larger of the two guards who held her said. The other man nodded fearfully, grateful that he didn't have to help subdue Vega's violent rage. He gripped Ororo's arms tightly, his fingers digging into her skin unconsciously, as he watched the happenings in the room.

Ororo watched as the lithe man eluded his captors repeatedly. "Is that the best you can do?" Vega taunted as his fist connected with one of the men's nose with a sickening crunch. The man fell back onto the floor clutching his nose. Finally, the remaining two men were able to get Vega under control. They sat him in another of the chairs and bound him so tightly with the rope that it severed his skin.

"You dare to blemish my beautiful skin?" Vega spat at the men. He rocked in his chair, his fury threatening to break it. Ororo found this almost comical that he seemed to care for his skin more than his own life. She would have chuckled had the situation not been so grave.

"That's not all I'm going to blemish if you don't _shut the fuck up_. You're _this close_ to not making it to the pit, pal," one of the guards said holding his thumb and forefinger closely together. Vega fell silent, but his eyes said everything he did not.

Ororo was brought into the room and sat in a chair not too far from Vega. She was bound tightly just as he had, even though she caused no such scene, and she winced as she tried to strain against the ropes. Trapped again, but at least this time she wasn't in the barred enclosure. The two captives sat in unreserved silence as if they were thinking of their ill-fated paths.

"You are beautiful enough for me to engage in conversation with. Thank God, you are not some unsightly creature that insults my beauty. I am Vega Fabio de Cerna," he suddenly said with arrogance singeing his tone. Ororo thought he just couldn't stand the intensity of the silence, just as she couldn't stand to be in tight, closed spaces. "But you are never to call me that… ever."

Ororo didn't respond to him; she wasn't sure that he wanted an answer as much as he wanted to hear himself talk. It was obvious that he was very vain, and yet he failed to realize that his narcissism was to be his downfall. She concentrated on building up her strength. It was possible she might need it.

"It is customary when someone introduces themselves to you for the first time that you extend the same courtesy," Vega said in the same condescending, arrogant tone.

Ororo didn't take his attitude personally. She had seen many humans and mutants with far worse attitudes than him, but his extreme self-absorption was somewhat disconcerting. "Forgive me. I am Ororo Munroe, most people call me Storm," Ororo said. She decided it was far better to try to befriend him. They shared a common plight.

Her answer sounded preoccupied, as if she had better things to worry about than him. _Hardly._

"Why do you choose to hide behind some pseudonym when your own name is good enough? I will call you Ororo because it is your given name, not some ridiculous nickname. Storm. What an unusual name to call someone." She didn't seem to really hear him

"No, not for me, but that does not really matter now," Ororo replied with a note of regret in her timbre. "Does it?"

"You speak as if you are about to die," Vega said with a hint of antipathy in his voice. He hated when people gave up all hope of living. He, himself, enjoyed killing victims who struggled endlessly for their lives until their definitive finish rather than those who gave in willingly to him.

"Do I?" Ororo asked. She didn't mean to sound hopeless. She knew she could find some way to get out of this. Couldn't she? She was a leader, but seeing Sagat again… She never thought it would happen, didn't want to believe it would happen. Here she was—his prisoner.

The silence engulfed them again as they each returned to their respective thoughts.

"Why have you been brought here to this place? Did you commit some act of treachery against Lord Bison or Sagat?" Vega asked, interested in hearing more about his companion with the wavy white hair and the misty-like eyes. He didn't feel she was treacherous, but she'd done something to deserve this fate unlike him.

"It was the act of treachery that I would not commit that got me here." Ororo sighed. She saw Vega flash her a perplexed look out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't want to get into the whole story. It was too much right now, and she didn't trust him enough to share it in its entirety. "My friends and I were set-up by Sagat. He orchestrated a crisis in order to get to me."

"Why would he want you?" He was growing frustrated with the unclear answers she was providing to his questions.

"Some things, Vega, are better left unsaid," she said. At that moment, the door opened and in walked Sagat in all his usual fanfare. All he lacked were girls dancing before he entered the room. Two men followed him into the room. He stood silently in front of his detainees inspecting both of them with an analytical eye.

Vega saw Ororo turn her eyes from Sagat. Her angry eyes rested on his face instead, but she wasn't looking at him more than she was through him. Grim determination set her jaw. _Interesting_, Vega said to himself.

"Miss Ororo, are you trying to gather up the little energy you have left to use against me?" Sagat tsked turning to his female captive. "You impish little witch. I have a present for you. I think it's something that you might remember quite well."

She turned to look at him. From behind his back, Sagat produced the collar that she and many other mutants had once been imprisoned with on the isle of Genosha. Sagat clamped it around her neck.

"I'm afraid it doesn't go well with your outfit, but you'll make do," Sagat said. "I've been thinking. If you make it through tonight's encounter, I might just spare you."

Her fingers grazed the collar as she looked away from him again. She didn't say anything. She just closed her eyes as if she were pretending to be somewhere else. Sagat looked almost miffed at this dismissal. Vega held back a smile. He didn't completely understand the exchange between the two. She had been so vague about her reasons for being captured, but then again why should he care?

"I will not fight without my claw and my mask," Vega said, bringing Sagat's attention to him.

"Give him his claw. It won't matter much in the end whether he has it or not," Sagat said, and then added with a baleful grin. "But he will not wear the mask. In fact, he will never wear it again, get rid of it."

Vega began to protest. What about his face? He couldn't risk harm to his face. He fought against his bonds while Sagat continued to laugh at him. He would show him.

"Poor Vega, he's still worried about his handsome face when he's so close to being embraced by death. How noble," Sagat ridiculed. He turned to his men. "They're up next. Make sure to throw his claw in the pit; we wouldn't want him to get it now. That might be unpleasant for us all."

"But my face— " Vega said, but Sagat slammed the door ignoring Vega's futile request for his mask, and they were once again left alone. Vega thrashed about ferociously in his chair almost tipping himself over in the process. He huffed like a mad bull and screamed obscenities in Spanish while Ororo observed him with a questioning stare.

The two men still present laughed at the fallen champion. They unbound Ororo and placed shackles on her arms and legs, and somehow they managed to do the same with the volatile Spaniard. The doomed pair were led from the room. "Dead man walking," one of the guards joked.

"The end has come for you, Vega Fabio de Cerna," the other guard said, adding a cruel laugh.

"You are not to address me by that name. I will rip out your tongue for your disrespect." Vega sneered, throwing an obnoxious nose in the air. "My end is nowhere in sight."


	3. Fight

_**Two  
Fight**_

They stood at the entrance of the pit. Vega knew it well. He didn't have to look at it to see it. He had sat in a booth with Sagat high above the pit many times watching the barbarians kill each other, but he had never fought there. Vega thought it was a disgusting way to die. It was filthy. Blood from the people that had fought before them lined the grimy ground, and it smelled to high heaven.

Most of the people who went into the pit hoped to gain popularity and money. Sagat promised many of the fighters who fought by their own freewill money. The slaves he captured he promised them nothing, but death. Vega couldn't believe that Sagat was throwing him out there like a commoner. He wasn't some sideshow attraction for drunks and gamblers. He was a prized fighter that should be worshipped by the people.

He looked over at Ororo whose eyes were wide with alarm; she moved her lips silently. Vega wondered if she was praying. He wanted to tell her that God couldn't save her from the pit. God would never dare tread upon such an immoral and repulsive place, but Vega held his tongue. Maybe the thought of praying comforted her somewhat. She would need that comfort if she wanted to survive.

If she was truly afraid, she was dignifiedly afraid. Aside from her shocked expression, she didn't show signs of fear. She didn't beg and plead for her life. She didn't cry and use feeble tactics in hopes of her captors sparing her life. She didn't cause a scene as most women would. Vega deemed that respectable of a simple woman.

"Your wretched claw is out there," One of the guards said pointing out into the pit. Vega's eyes scanned the pit until he spotted it. It relieved him to see that Sagat had kept that one promise to him.

Vega said nothing, but nodded solemnly. He still entertained thoughts of killing the guard for calling him by his given name. The steel bars blocking the entrance rose slowly. _Does this mean it's time for me to grace those disgusting people with my beauty? _Vega asked himself cynically. Then, the two men spoke to each other in a language he didn't understand. The guard who had spoken to him called two other men to their side.

"You two hold him while we unshackle her. He's dangerous, so watch him," the guard said. The two men nodded in understanding, and the guard pushed Vega toward them.

"You don't even know the meaning of dangerous, my friend," Vega said, his voice low and dangerous. When he was free, he would make them regret the day they were ever born.

They said nothing in response to him. The only sound was the clanking of Ororo's shackles as they took them off her. "I'm letting you go out there in the pit on your own, witch. I have a little more faith in that you know how serious this situation is unlike your unpredictable companion here. If you try to turn and attack us, I will not hesitate to kill you. At least in the pit, you have a chance to survive, no matter how small it is." He said gruffly as he pushed Ororo out of the door.

"And here's your first competitor, Storm!" a voice announced over the loudspeaker. The crowd jeered at her viciously as she stood there looking forlorn. The crowd began to throw things at her. She quickly ducked her head, dodging a rotten apple core.

The man turned towards Vega, and Vega could sense the man's fear mounting as he reached for his bound hands. "Vega, you know you deserve this just as much as anyone else. She may not, but _you do_. I'm going to spare you the speech I just gave her and tell you this one thing. When I push you out of these doors, you have a split second to make the decision to kill me or get your precious claw. If you kill me, they kill you. If you go for the claw, you won't be able to get back to me before these doors close. Either way, you're most likely dead."

Vega took his words into consideration before answering him. "Even if I don't get to kill you today, _señor_, trust me when I say I will kill you after this is all over," Vega said. His eyes were liquid ice threatening to chill the man to the bone.

"It's going to be a little hard to do that where you're going," the man said in an infuriating calmness. Vega frowned at the man in detest; he would remember him and his obstinacy.

The shackles were taken off him, and he was pushed roughly out into the pit as Ororo had been before him. He sped across the pit with a lightning speed and picked up his claw. He turned and saw the doors of the entrance were closing. Vega ran as fast as he could, but the door sealed just as he arrived back across the pit.

"I told you that you wouldn't make it, Vega, yet you still try. I have to admire your tenacity, boy," the man said sardonically as he let out a throaty chuckle. Vega stuck tip of his claw throw the tight bars of the door, grazing the man's face. The man yelped in surprise and jumped back from the door. He grabbed his face where beads of blood were starting to form.

"You shouldn't play so close to fire, _señor_, you might get burned," Vega said maliciously licking the man's blood off his claw, but he spit it out quickly. "Just as I suspected, it's disgusting just like you."

Vega laughed and hit the bars of the door mockingly. He moved away from the door as the announcer introduced him to the people. His reception was just as cold as the one that Ororo had received. He flung his long, disheveled ponytail over one shoulder in a gesticulation of righteous anger. How dare they heckle at him, the greatest fighter of all time. No one measured up to him—_no one_.

Once, he had been cheered by people everywhere, but now he was stuck in a primordial land where the people were no smarter than the village idiot. Oh, how he missed his days in Barcelona, and he would still be there reveling in the adoration of his people had it not been for Sagat. Vega stood before these strange people and held his head high in true aristocrat fashion. Once the rotting food that was being thrown at him had been roses of respect from the hands of his fans.

"Are we to fight each other?" Ororo asked him quietly as a silence settled over the arena.

Vega turned to her. "No, we're not fighting each other. We're fighting together."

Vega knew Sagat's thinking about that. Sagat liked to pair people together and make them fight for their lives. He knew that that meant they had to compromise with each other or the consequences were deadly. Usually, he paired people together who he knew could never come to conciliation long enough to save their paltry, inconsequential lives—such as sworn enemies. Vega was sure that Sagat paired him with Ororo because she was a woman. Vega had reserves about fighting with women, but held none when it came to fighting against them.

"Women's blood is the sweetest gift God could give to any man. Too bad most of them don't take the time to appreciate it." Vega mused aloud. Women's blood proved to be sweeter and more aromatic than any other. It held a sugary tang that he savored every time he killed a woman. It was orgasmic in the sense that it filled some longing in him.

"What was that?" Ororo asked, wondering if she had heard him right. A chill froze her blood. What kind of man had Sagat placed her with? She swallowed hard.

"I said, we don't fight against one another. If that was the case, _you_, _mi querida_, would already be long dead by my hand," Vega said. "Instead, we fight other people who are undoubtedly getting paid to kill us. Sagat figures twice the blood -"

"Twice the profit," Ororo finished for him. Vega raised one eyebrow at her. How did she know that was what he was going to say? She continued, as if reading his mind, "I know a lot about Sagat, probably more than I want."

The announcer's voice interrupted their conversation as the arrival of their opponents was announced. "And their opponents Christoph and Nikolaus, the Fürchtegott brothers."

The people cheered heartily as two hideous brutes entered the arena from the opposite entrance. They both stood well over six feet and their physique seemed to be made up of muscles on top of muscles. Their skin had been darkened by the sun and resembled tough leather. They glowered at Vega and Ororo with their piercing eyes.

They were Sagat's champions. They had never lost a battle in the pit before. They were two of the most brutal men that Vega had ever seen fight, and he had always envisioned the day he would get to kill them. It had come sooner than he expected, but their time was now. It would be his pleasure to kill them.

"Sagat mocks us," Nikolaus, the bigger of the two men, said. "He sends a woman and a mere child to fight us? This will be the fastest cash we have ever made, brother."

The two men laughed at Nikolaus' so-called joke. Vega looked at Ororo whose jaw tightened—more of that grim determination he'd spotted earlier. . _It won't be so funny when their blood drips copiously off my claw,_ Vega reassured himself. Vega could visualize Sagat's look of horror as he ripped his prizefighters limb from limb right before his eyes. The idea itself was enough to bring a smile to Vega's face. _Vae_ _victus._

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" the people called out lustfully, tiring of all the talk that was taking place in the pit.

"We must give the people what they want," Christoph concluded as he stalked toward Ororo. "I'll take the woman, and you take the boy. We'll be done long before dinnertime."

Christoph ran at Ororo and was met with a stiff sidekick to the jaw. "You kick hard for a woman. Maybe you will be a little competition," Christoph said rubbing his jaw. Christoph charged at Ororo again, and the two began to brawl.

Vega turned his attention to Nikolaus; his size wouldn't intimidate him. Vega didn't move. He believed in letting his opponent make the first move. Nikolaus dashed toward Vega. Vega tried to jab him with the claw, but Nikolaus dodged it with amazing agility for a man his size. Nikolaus hit Vega with one of his huge fists. Vega flew back. He couldn't remember the last time he had been hit like that by anyone.

Vega leapt up only to be met with a series of quick powerful kicks, and Vega quickly covered his face from the blows. Perhaps, he had underestimated his opponent. He would have to use more calculated measures against Nikolaus. Vega ran from Nikolaus hoping to attempt a wall dive, but Nikolaus grabbed Vega's long hair, yanking him back with vicious force. Vega let out a sound of protest.

"Unhand me, you beast," Vega screamed. Vega twisted his body and used his claw to stab one of Nikolaus' massive arms. Nikolaus grunted and let go of Vega. Vega then turned and kicked Nikolaus in the stomach driving the man back. He turned to see how Ororo was faring. Christoph was crushing Ororo in his arms with a powerful bear hug.

Vega moved to help her, but Nikolaus caught the man from behind once again. He threw Vega, and Vega landed with a nasty thud on the hard ground. He felt a piece of something scrape the side his face. "My face!" Vega cried angrily. He touched his face and was surprised to see a little blood on his fingertips. "You will pay for this! You will die at my hands for daring to mark my beautiful face."

"The boy is facing his certain death, and he worries about his pretty, little face," Nikolaus taunted loudly. The crowd laughed at Nikolaus's jest. Vega sneered at him. He didn't like being the brunt of jokes. He was not to be laughed at. He was only supposed to strike respect and fear in the people's hearts.

Vega shakily stood up and ran at Nikolaus, he spun to avoid a punch from Nikolaus, and then he planted his claw deeply into Nikolaus' shoulder. Nikolaus let out a painful yell. "Your cries of agony are sweet music to my ears," Vega said as he retracted the claw from Nikolaus' shoulders. Nikolaus fell holding his shoulder in pain. Vega tackled the man. "Now, you die," he snarled as he plunged his claw deep into Nikolaus' throat.

Vega saw that Ororo was out of Christoph's grasp; she landed an agile series on punches on Christoph, but Vega could see she was tiring quickly. Ororo kicked Christoph in the midsection with no effect. Did the collar have anything to do with her strength? He had heard Sagat say she had wore one once before to contain her power. He rushed to her side and used his claw to penetrate Christoph's leg as he had done with Nikolaus' shoulder.

Christoph yelped in surprise and fell just as his comrade before him had, and Vega knew he should have used this time to kill him, but his mind wandered back to the mysterious collar. Ororo fell to her knees, tired. Vega dropped to his knees beside her. Vega figured the collar must be some power drainer of sorts. Sagat must be using it to make Ororo weaker. _I'm going to do something about tha,. _Vega said to himself as he tilted her head to the side and slid his claw under the collar.

"Don't move, unless you want to lose your life now," Vega said through his teeth. He hoped it worked. He looked toward Christoph who was shaking off his wounds for a greater cause – money. He pulled roughly against the collar with the claw. "Come on, damn it. Come on!"

He wanted to whoop in relief as he felt the hard collar give way to his claw. It fell to the ground, and Vega stood up quickly to face their oncoming opponent. Now, it was time for the kill. Ororo stood beside him. "Move back. I do not want you getting hurt."

"You can't take on that man by yourself," Vega argued. Just because he had gotten the collar off didn't make her a superwoman. She couldn't be thinking straight. Christoph advanced on them injuries and all. Vega knew he must be in a lot of pain, but revenge and greed would never allow him to give up the fight. Vega had killed his brother. Now, he intended to kill them.

"Vega, please…" she said with a coldness that he hadn't heard in her voice before. Her tone was usually laced with the melodious timbre of a village elder. He thought of listening to her for a second, but instead he stood his ground.

"No, we fight together. Now isn't the time for heroics." He reasoned with her as calmly as he could. She only nodded at him solemnly and turned back toward Christoph.

"If you wish to live, you will turn and leave this place," Ororo said boldly to him. Christoph merely laughed at her. Who did she think she was? She was just some woman. "Very well, I tried to spare you."

Ororo's eyes started to glow an eerie white color, and she floated into the air. Dark clouds rolled across the sky and thunder roared with intent. Vega backed away from her. For the first time, fear crept into his heart. Was Ororo doing all this? A small whirlwind seemed to rise from the ground and separated Christoph from Vega and Ororo. He heard shouts of protest coming from the man.

She held her hands high in the air and seemed to absorb the lightening from the sky. The crowd screamed in amazement as she struck Christoph with a powerful bolt of lightningm freezing his face in an eternal death scream. Vega continued to back away from her as cool drops of rain started to fall from the sinister sky. Christoph was dead where he once stood.

"That is why they called you witch. What are you?" Vega asked trying to mask his obvious fear, but his question went unanswered as he heard a thunderous gunshot and felt a pain shoot through his right shoulder. He looked and saw a dart lodged deeply in his skin. Vega looked in the direction of the show and saw a man with a gun standing in the crowd with the spectators. He ran toward the man, but felt his eyes get heavier. No, he had to make it. He had to… He dropped to his knees and fell into a deep sleep.

Ororo started to build up her power again for the next strike, but Sagat walked into the pit forcing a small child to walk before him. His men followed behind him dutifully. The child struggled in Sagat's steel grasp. Sagat knew that he once again had the upper hand on the situation. Vega and Storm had underestimated him, for he was far more prepared more than they apparently thought.

"Ororo, make another move, and I kill the boy," Sagat said , holding a little boy in his grips.

A woman cried from the stands; she must be the mother. Ororo dropped her arms helplessly to her side. She knew she couldn't attack Sagat when there was a child's life at stake.

"Put the collar on her. I knew you were sneaky, but I would have never thought about Vega freeing you. That tells me that I should cover my bases more carefully." He expected Vega to let her die, but he hadn't. Curious.

One of his men moved towards Ororo and placed the collar back on her neck. They had been so close, yet not close enough. Would they ever get away from that evil place? Was Sagat going to have them executed? Numerous thoughts ran through Ororo's mind as she was chained and forced to follow the guards. Two guards carried Vega's limp body ahead of her. They were led back to the room where she was told they would stay until Sagat decided what he wanted to do with them.


	4. Contravene

_**Three  
Contravene**_

"Why ain't we doin' somethin' ta save 'Ro? Some power hungry freak with one eye gouged out carries her off, an' we sit here playin' house like Martha fuckin' Stewart?" Logan grumbled to himself as he stalked the hallways of the mansion for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

He muttered to himself, every other word an indecent expletive that would make a sailor blush. When Scott and Ororo had briefed them on the specifics of the mission, Logan had wanted to snort at the simplicity of it all. He had smelled that trap from miles away, but what were they suppose to do? The bastards had kidnapped Jubilee and used her as bait to reel them in.

They had snatched the kid at the mall. No surprise, considering that was where she spent her every stolen moment. She probably put up a valiant fight; she was a tough kid, but she had probably been outnumbered, out-powered, or both. The big tip-off that it was all just a setup was the fact that they left Jubilee's backpack and a strategically placed a business card on top of the bag with the address to the Bali-Thai, a restaurant, in Hua Hin, Thailand.

It was obvious that they wanted the X-men to come to them. Why else would they leave behind such an apparent clue to their whereabouts? It was obviously a trap; it was just too simple not to be.

They found out from some of their Thai sources that the Bali-Thai was rumored to be housing an underground drug cartel headed by a Victor Sagat, but it was debatable whether or not he actually worked from the Bali-Thai himself. Sagat probably just had a few trusted men looking over things while he reaped the rewards. Didn't they always?

Once this vital information was revealed, Ororo worked herself overtime in devising a rescue mission with the team for Jubilee. She was putting in a full 110 percent, not that she would have done anything less, but something about this that really seemed to bother her.

Logan questioned her on her erratic behavior.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he asked her one night. She was outside, pacing the grounds. She held her fingers to her temples, something she did often when she was trying to unravel some problem.

She jumped at his words, spooked. "I did not hear you walk up," she said. In the moonlight, he could see her harrowed expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, but she shook her head at him.

"I am just worried about Jubilee being with such dangerous people," she said. Logan sensed there was more to the story than Ororo was telling, but sometimes it was harder to get her to speak on a certain subject than it was to get Scott to lighten up.

Once they got to Thailand, they spent a couple of days trying to find out where they were hiding Jubilee. The people there were very tight-lipped about everything in Logan's opinion, and Scott pointed out that it was probably Logan's less than likable manners that offended them. He graced Scott with a steely snarl for that comment. They still hadn't found the kid, and Ororo was exhausting herself. She barreled off on her on, working late into the night. One night she didn't return until the next morning.

Their next order of business had been to scout the Bali Thai. It sounded like a fair enough plan to Logan. He could go for something better than that crap they served at the hotel anyway. The Bali-Thai lived up to its superb reputation; it was a lavish restaurant that boasted live, alluring entertainment and great food. Logan wasn't having such an easy time with the food part. Three waitresses had already walked passed him each offering him only a revolted glimpse.

"Hey lady," Logan said brusquely to one of the servers. He crooked his forefinger at her, beckoning her to come, and she looked at him with that familiar disgusted glance before she turned away. "Why can't I get any fuckin' service? They ain't gonna like it when I start takin' names and kickin' ass." Logan grumbled, his stomach growling in agreement.

Ororo sighed. "Here in Thailand, waiters and waitresses don't take kindly to being beckoned at. They see it as a form of disrespect; they equate that action to how you would call a dog. Here, let me show you the proper way to gain the servers' attention." Ororo put her palm on the table and pulled all her fingers in toward her body; seconds later, Ororo had a waitress at the table ready to take their orders. He wondered where she learned to do that. She never mentioned she'd been to Thailand before.

Ororo mostly picked at her papaya salad while Scott talked. Scott was always talking. Logan got sick of hearing Scott talk. Scott thought that they should question one of the servers. Logan thought they should just tear the place apart until they got answers. Of course, Scott thought that idea was too risky and "so like Logan." Ororo finally laid her fork aside and began to fidget. Logan couldn't believe she was actually fidgeting. Cool, calm Ororo fidgeting? Finally, she excused herself to the restroom.

_That might work with the others, but it doesn't work with me._ Logan said to himself, not missing the gleam of determination in her eyes. He left the table himself, not giving any explanation, and followed Ororo behind the thick curtains separating the kitchen and the restrooms from the huge dining room. He hid in a dark corner of the hallway as Ororo looked behind her and hesitantly pushed opened the double doors of the kitchen. Logan sauntered from his hiding place and peeked through the window of the double doors.

"What are you doing? You cannot be back here," a chef said Ororo excitedly, waving his knife dangerously in the air. He saw Ororo move closer to him and speak in a language he couldn't understand. The chef nodded and pointed towards the back of the kitchen, then turned back to his own work and pretended like nothing at all had happened.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows deeply and burst through the doors nearly running into a waiter who was about to make a run with a large platter of food. The food tottered dangerously in the waiter's hand, and Logan quickly stabled it for him. Logan walked toward the chef he had seen Ororo speak too. "Where'd the lady go?" Logan demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about. What lady? You cannot be back here!" the chef said, using the same line as before. Logan snarled at him and slammed the chef against the wall. He unsheathed his claws, frightening the poor chef. He positioned his claws at the base of the chef's throat. "Demon! Get away from me!"

"I'll ask you one more time. Where'd the lady go?" Logan said. The man said spastic prayers in his native language, his mouth moving with furious speed. Logan shook him violently.

The chef let out a small cry. "She went into the meat cooler to get to the basement. Please, demon, kill me now because once Lord Sagat finds out what I did, death will be too benevolent of a punishment in his eyes."

Logan ignored the chef's pleas for death and dropped him, going toward the direction of the meat cooler. He opened the door of the meat cooler and walked around the frozen, uncooked meat. Near the back of the cooler was a door. If he hadn't known that there was suppose to be a door in there leading to the basement, he might have not noticed it.

That had to be the covert effect they were going for. It also helped that Ororo left the door slightly ajar. Logan disappeared behind the door and walked down a long, dark corridor that led the top of a set of rickety steps. Logan walked down the slowly, adjusting his eyes to the growing darkness.

At the base of the steps, he saw Ororo peering into a dimly lit room. He walked down them quietly and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She spun around startled. "What are you doing here?" she asked, a hint of anger tingeing her voice.

"I could ask ya the same question," he countered, looking over Ororo's shoulder in the room where Jubilee was sitting tied to a chair. Her eyes were closed, and she was taking slow, steady breaths. She looked unscathed at first sight, but sometimes wounds ran deeper than just the physical.

"They have left Jubilee here alone. I am going to get her, and we are going to get out of here," Ororo said simply. Logan's eyes searched Ororo's face in the weak light for any sign reason, but she still held that same determined look.

"I don't think ya should go in there. Why would they just leave her there with no one watchin'? Ororo, it's a trap. Just think-" He started trying to make her see, but she silenced him with one commanding hand.

"What other choice do I have Logan? This opportunity may never rise again," Ororo said with distress in her voice. Logan knew her mind was made up, and there was nothing he could do but watch her back.

Ororo walked quietly in the room with the stealth of a panther. Logan stood at the door, poised ready for action. Within minutes, Ororo and Jubilee exited the room. Logan expected hundreds of men to crawl out the woodworks trying to assault them, but nothing happened. This set him on edge even more; it couldn't be that simple. Nothing was that simple.

They rejoined their friends in the dining room and quickly left, not wanting to chance their _good fortune_. Logan and Ororo's actions earned them a severe berating from Scott, but all in all, everyone was relieved that Jubilee had been rescued with no confrontation.

The plan was to get out of that city as soon as possible. The Blackbird lay hidden in the thick brush of the Thai jungle; they made haste to its location, hoping to be home soon. They couldn't wait to be home in their own dwellings. The hair on Logan's next prickled as they walked through the jungle. He put it off as being paranoid.

He heard shuffles in the underbrush. _It's probably just some animal looking for food._ Logan said to himself. No, his nose smelled other people. It could be native foraging for food or whatever they did, but he knew better. They were almost to the jet, anyway. If they could just make it a few steps further...

Before they could board the plane, a taunting voice called out to them. "I would think such an esteemed team of your caliber would know to check for tracking devices. I thought the X-Men were supposed to be _real_ professionals."

There was a tracking device on Jubilee, and Sagat's men had followed them all the way to the Blackbird. Jubilee started pulling at her clothes frantically, searching for the device that had led their enemies to them.

"Let me save you the trouble. It's in the right arm seam of your jacket," Sagat said, moving to reveal himself in the moonlight. He puffed on a cigar nonchalantly as Jubilee produced a very small, black tracking device.

"What do you want with Jubilee? We ain't gonna just let you take her from us again," Rogue drawled her voice steady and dangerous. There was silent agreement among the other X-Men, but something was missing. Why would Sagat let them rescue Jubilee only to take her back? Logan tried to put the missing pieces of the puzzle together, but he couldn't.

"You offend me. You think I want a mere girl?" He chuckled and his band of men followed suit, letting out sarcastic chortles until Sagat raised one hand to silent them. "What use do I have for a _child_ when I can have a goddess?" He looked pointedly at Ororo whose brows were furrowed in silent fury. What wasn't Ororo telling them? Did she know Sagat?

"Well, ya ain't takin' her either, pal." Logan snarled, unsheathing his claws. This gesture of warning only made Sagat laugh harder. Logan didn't think Sagat would be laughing when his intestines were hanging from a tree.

"You really are an amusing group. Too bad we won't get to make each other's acquaintances." Sagat snapped his fingers. Out from the shadows appeared a woman. Sagat thought he was going to take out the whole team with this one woman. Logan couldn't see much of the woman's face; she hid behind a cloak. He could make out what appeared to be a long scar on one cheek. "Kill them if you must, but bring the white-haired woman to me alive. If you fail me, I will strangle the life from you with my bare hands."

The woman snorted at him in a challenging manner. Sagat turned to walk away from the group. Where in the hell did he think he was going? Did he really think they were about to let him walk away from them? Logan made the first move rushing as Sagat's turned back. The woman was the only obstacle between Sagat and Logan. _Piece of cake._ He said to himself. He was prepared to shove her out of the way, but was surprised when he was met with a kick that nearly sent him flying back. Then without warning, hundreds of men literally streamed from the depths of the jungle.

The battle was long and hard. They were outnumbered by Sagat's men. They never stopped coming. As soon as it looked good for the X-men, more men seem to ooze from the shadows. Logan had long lost sight of the mysterious woman, but spotted her again from the corner of his eye. What happened next happened so quickly, he didn't want to believe it had happened. The woman had somehow managed to jump on Ororo's shoulders from behind, catching Ro off guard. The woman flipped forward using her weight and powerful legs to flip Ororo over with her. Ororo landed hard, too hard. Logan fought his way toward the scene.

The woman produced something from her jacket pocket, a needle, and jabbed Ororo with it. She then motioned with her hand for someone to come out of the dark. He was a tall guy, very muscular. He picked up Ororo with ease and threw her over his shoulders like she was a sack of potatoes. Logan pushed forward harder, coming face to face again with the woman. Once again, she was his only obstacle between the fleeting figure and himself. He was beyond angry as she punched at him. He grabbed her wrist, slung her to the side, and followed the man who carried Ororo off. "Don't worry 'Ro, I'm comin' for ya." He called behind them.

Logan pursued them, but was stopped again by a deadly punch to the face. The person executed a series of powerful punches, driving Logan back from the force. The punches rained on Logan only allowing him a glimpse of his attacker. He heard sinister chuckling, and that was the last thing Logan remembered as the man kept driving at him, causing him to hit a tree at breakneck momentum. Those blows would have finished a lesser man, but they only managed to knock Logan out cold.

Now here they were back at the mansion when they should've been in Thailand causing some serious trouble. Logan didn't know how they had escaped, and he really didn't care. He just knew that Ororo needed saving. Scott said the team needed to recuperate. How could they save Ororo when they weren't fit to fight? The team needed medical attention. It was bullshit. If Jean had been kidnapped, Scott would have gone to hell and back to find her. "Bullshit," he said aloud.

"You still walkin' around these halls? Dey not goin' nowhere, ami," Remy said, peeking out the door of his room at Logan. Logan didn't even grace the Cajun's quip with a retort. "Don'tcha worry, we gonna get 'er back."

"When?" Logan asked loudly, his voice reverberating against the walls of the mansion. Remy seemed to recoil a little from Logan.

"_Je ne sais pas_, Logan, but Scott says -" Remy started, and Logan let out a low growl of disapproval at Remy's choice of words. Remy stopped short of finishing sentence at the strong action from Logan.

"Fuck Scott an' fuck what he _says_. He hasn't made one effort yet ta get off his ass an' find her. It's been almost two days. She could be dead by now," Logan said, hoping that he was wrong, and she was still alive. Logan stormed away from Remy, retreating to his own room. "I'll find her myself." He concluded once the door was closed.

If Scott knew what Logan was planning, it would lead to an all out brawl. Not that Logan didn't like a good fight, especially when Scott was involved, he just didn't have time to listen to Scott's philosophical bullshit on why they should wait until they formed a plan to save Ororo. Who needed a plan? Things never went as planned anyway.


	5. Slave

_**Four  
Slave**_

Vega wakened to the gentle stroke of fingers against his skin, but he didn't open his eyes. His shoulder throbbed persistently, but he concentrated on the velvety feel of the soft fingers caressing his face. Finally, he opened his eyes slowly in a sleepy-eyed manner. He focused on heavenly, white hair that framed a beautiful, wise face. She had smooth, brown skin that looked as if it rivaled the softness of silk. Her eyes, even though they were the color of the bluest ice, held warmth and compassion.

Was she a "…_diosa_?" He finished his thought aloud.

"No, I am not a goddess," she said smiling down at him soothingly, her voice held a melodic timbre that could sedate even the most savage beast. "I am just Ororo."

_What are you doing? _Vega asked himself. He looked around at the dank room. Reality set it, and Vega's senses returned quickly. For just a moment, he forgot that he was imprisoned with Ororo by Sagat. _That slime. _He reminded himself silently.

He sat up abruptly, pulling away from Ororo, appalled at the emotion and weakness he had just displayed. He recalled the fight they had been coerced into, and then he remembered… "_Bruja_!" he said vehemently, scrambling away from Ororo. She could control the weather; she had to be a witch.

"I am not a witch, either," Ororo said calmly. She held up her shackled arms and asked, "If I were a witch, would I still be here in this hell?"

Vega pushed himself further into the corner he was occupying. She wouldn't deceive him with her trickery and lies. "You lie to me, witch." Was this God's way of punishing him for his sins? Was He going to let this demon take him away to the fiery pits?

Ororo's serene expression never left her face; she was use to his reaction. She had come to accept the fact that people were going to either revere her or hate her—sometimes both. Yet, it still hurt her deeply when people were unable to accept her differences, but she hid this hurt well. "No, I am not lying to you. Please… just listen to me."

Her words were ignored as Vega began to pray for deliverance. He crossed himself once and kissed his fingers. "Amen," he added, starting again on a concession of prayers.

"I am _not_ a witch." Ororo repeated in a voice that demanded attention. She didn't raise her voice or show any anger, but the seriousness of it was enough to catch Vega's attention. "And I am not a demon or a goddess. I am flesh and blood, just as you are. I have weaknesses just like any other human. The only difference between us is that I am a mutant."

Vega's prayers ceased at her revelation. "A mutant?" he asked curiously. He recalled being told once that Blanka was a mutant, but she didn't resemble Blanka in any way. He had imagined all mutants to be pitiful, misshapen creatures who hardly resembled humans. "Impossible, you don't act like a mutant, and you certainly don't _look _like a mutant."

"Have you encountered many mutants, Vega? How are mutants supposed to act? How do you know what a mutant does and does not look like?" Ororo demanded, her eyes blazing.

"I have seen a mutant once," Vega said haughtily. Now that he knew that Ororo wasn't some demon, he was beginning to fall back into his air of self-importance. "He was an ugly creature, hardly worth sparing, and you look nothing like him. His behavior was atrocious. He was viler than the most disgusting animal I can think of, and even that comparison is far too kind."

Ororo shook her head at him sadly. So many misinformed people, like Vega, thought mutants had to look and act a certain way. "Not all mutants are so obvious. You've probably encountered many mutants in your life, but you just didn't know it."

Vega considered her words; she had a point. She looked perfectly normal to him save for her white hair and electric, blue eyes. "You could be right." He gave her a slight shrug of dismissal.

Ororo nodded, willing to accept that answer. She knew that his pride wouldn't let him admit anything more. "Does your face hurt much?" she asked, changing the subject.

Vega's fingers flew to the scrape on his face. He had forgotten all about the scratch that he sustained in the fight. He growled lowly as he traced the shallow line. Christoph and Nikolaus were dead, but he would continue to curse their names as long as he lived for tarnishing his face. And he would make Sagat pay for the injustice with his life. No one defiled the face of Vega. "No, but Sagat will compensate for this disrespect."

"Does your physical beauty mean much to you that you would take a man's life?" Ororo asked quietly. She was interested in the man and his penchant for beauty. What made a man become so vain that he would kill for physical beauty?

"Beauty means everything. Without it, this place is lost," he responded fervently. "If I had my say, this world would only be a safe haven for beautiful things."

"And who are you to say what _is_ beautiful and what is not?" Ororo challenged.

Vega visibly tensed at her question. How dare she contest him? Wasn't it obvious what gave him the right to judge beauty? "I am the most beautiful person this world has ever seen. Who better to decide what's beautiful than me? But enough questions about me. What about you, Ororo? How do you know Sagat?"

"I do not know him," Ororo responded tersely, setting her lips in a grim line.

"You lie," Vega shot back brazenly. Did she really think he was that simple-minded? He would admit that he was preoccupied with himself, but he wasn't dumb or oblivious by any means.

Ororo shifted her eyes away from him. "You're right. I am lying, but I do not want to talk about my affiliation with Victor." Those days with Sagat were long gone and she wished to leave them that way. She didn't want to relive any memories of Sagat. At least, not now.

"Were you a lover of his at one time? You two seem to share an intimate connection." Vega probed, ignoring Ororo's request to drop the subject. "You don't seem like the type who would associate with someone as loathsome as Sagat."

"You and I have only just met. How can you tell that I am not the type that would associate with a certain person?" Ororo asked heatedly. She took two breaths to regain her composure before she continued. "I could be just as evil and detestable as him."

Vega snorted, eyeing Ororo with a skeptical eye. "No, I know evil, and believe me, you are not evil."

"There you go again, making judgments about people you don't know. Tell me about evil since you seem to be the expert on the subject." Ororo sighed. A faint smile covered Vega's lips, and his eyes brightened visibly.

"Evil is watching the very essence of life slip from your victim's eyes, watching transfixed as your blade slides cleanly through his throat, seeing your victim's blood glittering so invitingly on the blade, tempting you to taste it, to savor in its sweetness. And to know you caused this… there is no feeling more pleasing…" Vega's eyes closed as if he were reminiscing on some fond memory. His eyes snapped open again. He decided that was enough to appease Ororo. "So, I ask you again, how do you know Sagat?"

Vega's brief description of evil still rang in her ears. It was appalling, yet he had described it so poetically. "What happened between Victor and me is in the past where it should stay. Maybe, one day, if you are patient, you will learn about _us._" Ororo stressed the word us disdainfully.

"Must you always speak in riddles?" he asked. She had been speaking in vague puzzles since they "met." He didn't blame her for not trusting him, if that was truly the reason, but he hated when people gave him foggy answers. Why not just say it was none of his business?

Ororo didn't get a chance to answer before the door to their confine was thrown open. A large, burly guard walked in and smirked evilly at Ororo. "Sagat wants me to bring to him, don't say that I blame him," the guard said approaching Ororo. He pulled her violently to her feet. The guard ran his fingers roughly through Ororo's hair. "You look like your a real spitfire in bed."

Vega noticed she kept her calm expression, but her eyes betrayed a hint of fear. "You hold your tongue, pig," Vega responded in Ororo's defense. He may have been shackled like an animal, but he still held a certain amount of dignity that Sagat and his retinue couldn't touch.

"Does the Spaniard gotta thing for the weather witch? I can't believe you care about someone other than yourself. Don't worry, boy. Sagat ain't gonna hurt her too bad, and he ain't forgot about you, either." The guard kicked Vega who fought against his restraints. The guard only laughed at Vega and led Ororo away. He heard the guard talking crudely still to Ororo as their footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Vega tried to quell his anger as he silently vowed to himself that when he was free his wrath would know no boundaries. He would destroy Sagat's empire from the ground up.

———

"C'mon sweetheart, quit yourstallin'. Sagat ain't a patient man, y'know," the guard said when Ororo resisted going into the room where Sagat was waiting for her. Ororo dug her heels into the floor, her first signs of resistance since she was captured. Her opposition proved futile as the man pushed her brusquely into the room. She stumbled forward, nearly tripping from the abrupt push. She heard the guard chuckle behind her and slam the doors.

Ororo stood stock-still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, her senses acutely aware that _he _was somewhere in the dark room. The hairs on her neck prickled; her chest contracted tightly as her heart pounded loudly. She felt the blood rush to her ears in a deafening roar. The pace of her breath involuntarily quickened. _Yes, this is fear,_ she said to herself. She scuffled forward listening for any signs that he was in the room. Maybe the guard was wrong, and Sagat wasn't there. But she _knew_ better.

"I can sense your fear, Ororo," he called from the shadows to the left. Her head snapped in the direction of his voice. She tried to make out a figure, but all she could see was darkness.

She took two steps away from the obscurity where he sat concealed. "Why have you spared my life and the life of the warrior, Victor?" she asked, trying to draw the man out of the darkness. "You could have killed us right then if you really wanted us dead."

"Warrior? I thought the word warrior was used to describe a noble fighter," Sagat scoffed, ignoring her last statement. "And Vega is nothing more than an egotistical, bloodthirsty savage. He's more dangerous than you think. I wouldn't become attached to him. Don't think for one minute that he would hesitate to rip out your heart if he had to."

Ororo didn't doubt his words. Vega was very egotistical, and his volatile nature preceded him, but still she felt the need to defend him. "He may be volatile, but he fights with the heart of a warrior. He is just a warrior who has lost his way."

Sagat chuckled. Always the optimist. "You don't know the real Vega. You only see what he wants you to see. He's a master manipulator. He'd much rather taste your blood on his lips than sleep with you. And you think he's a warrior lost?"

Ororo didn't know how to respond to Sagat's claims about Vega. She didn't know Vega well enough to stand up for him properly. She just knew what Sagat was doing was wrong. She decided that it was best if she didn't respond. She heard him move toward her from the darkness. His large hand encompassed her wrist. She struggled against him as he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the warm moisture from his breath on her face.

"You always had such beautiful hair," he said stroking through her hair, and she stiffened for a moment when his grip tightened on her locks. He relaxed once again, letting her hair fall back in place. "It was always a wondrous feeling watching you bury your head between my thighs, your snowy tresses swaying with the movement of your head."

Ororo blushed at the memory, grateful for the darkness; she had no doubt that he brought that up to toy with her, to remind her how things once were between them, but she wouldn't let him have the last word on the matter. "I'm sure it was just as wondrous as the feeling I got every time you buried _your _face in my womanhood."

"Touché," he replied.

Sagat's fingers nimbly traced the contours of her jaw and neck and finally lowered to her collarbone. She gasped as his mouth followed the same trail. He was using those old seductive moves that worked on her long ago. He planted his hands firmly on her hips and pulled her closer to him. "See, you want this as much as I do. How long has it been since you had a real man, Ororo?" he whispered in her ear.

Ororo stiffened against him, again. "My body may respond. I am only human, and I am susceptible to the desires of the flesh. But you will never again have my heart. Can you live with that?" she spat.

Sagat pushed her away from him roughly. "Then, why should I continue to let you live? I don't need your body. I can get a body slave anywhere to satisfy my lust. I _need_ you to be by my side. If I can't have you, then there's really no reason for you to still be alive."

"You are talking about helping a madman take away the freewill of every human being on this earth, and then you want to overpower this same dictator and take his place. That is wrong. People should not be treated as slaves." His threats did ignite fear in her, but she wouldn't back down to him now. If she was going to die, she would be happy to know that she died defending a cause.

"Even those people who scorn you?" He knew that would touch a soft spot in her.

"Even those who scorn me and others like me," she sighed.

Sagat neared her once again and placed a small kiss on her neck. "You play games with this old heart. Hear this. You will bend to my will, Ororo. I don't care what I have to do. You _will _be by my side."

- - -

Nightmares plagued his dreams, visions of his victims laughing at his fate. In his dreams, the showers of flowers that use to reverence him were replaced with the scornful, rotting parts of his victims. They actually _laughed_ at him those hideous creatures, their flesh melting from their bones revealing grinning skulls. Oh, how they laughed at him in his dreams.

Vega sat up from his uncomfortable spot on his prison floor. His hair was damp with perspiration, curled tendrils stuck to his cheeks and forehead; he was convinced that he was slowly descending into the land of the insane. He had been holed up in that room for three days, only being escorted out every now and again to attend to personal matters. At least, Sagat had granted him that one request.

It had also been three days since he had seen Ororo, and he couldn't help wondering about his prison mate. Was she still alive? Was Sagat using her as a body slave? Vega couldn't imagine a woman as regal as Ororo willingly, or unwillingly, servicing Sagat in any way. Vega sat against the stone wall, letting his mind wander until…

"Wakey, wakey, boy." Vega looked into the face of the guard who has escorted Ororo out of the room days earlier. Vega had fallen asleep again, but he didn't remember falling asleep. "I told you the boss wouldn't forget about you," he said. Vega put up little struggle as the man escorted him through the door.

Vega was led down to the same room where her first came face to face with Sagat after his capture. Sagat sat smiling spitefully from his chair. Vega curled his lip at his rival, not attempting to hide his disdain for the man. Sagat's uncovered eye narrowed as Vega was forced to his knees before Sagat.

Ororo sat subdued at Sagat's feet like someone's pet. She looked unharmed, and her hair was even pulled back in a neat French braid. She was scantily clad in an outfit that looked as if it was fit for a meager whore, just how Sagat liked his women. Vega tried to catch her eye, but she focused on something else. Vega then raised his head to look at Sagat. His head was snapped back down.

Sagat tsked. "I thought we had already established what a master-slave relationship was suppose to be like? You'd better get use to that Vega. From now on you'll crawl on your knees before me."

Vega made his first verbal protest since entering the room. "I will not be subjected to such humiliation by you. Have you forgotten who I am? If it weren't for these chains, you would already be dead."

"Still so proud even at your weakest moment. Strip him. I think it's time we showed our young companion the consequences of being rebellious." Sagat's eye glittered with something cruel as his men quickly went to work ripping away the simple shirt and pants Vega wore. Vega saw Ororo turn her head as they disrobed him. He tried to maintain his pride, as he stood naked before the people in the room.

A couple of men roughly pulled him to two makeshift pillars that were set up in the room. He didn't want to think about what they might have in store for him as they shackled him spread eagle to the pillars. He was turned away from Sagat. He had often heard horror stories about Sagat's torture sprees, but he had never seen one.

"If you wish to beg for mercy, Vega, now would be the time to do it. I'm a merciful man," Sagat offered, but Vega remained defiantly silent. He would never accept pity from Sagat. "He doesn't speak. Very well then." Sagat nodded his head slowly.

Vega heard motion behind him, and then there was the crack of a… _whip_?

"Please, please, do not do that. He may not beg for mercy, but I will on his behalf." He heard Ororo plead. She pleaded for him to be spared, but why? No one had ever pleaded for him, not even his own mother.

Sagat grunted in amusement. "She begs for him. How charming, but I don't believe in intercession. _He_ either begs, or he will feel the sting of the whip's tongue."

Vega would not beg; it would hurt the little pride he had left.

"Try not to hit his face, but if it can't be avoided…" Sagat trailed off, and Vega tensed at the mention of scarring his beautiful face. Sagat wouldn't. He couldn't. He was trying to force him into submission with empty threats.

Vega continued to reassure himself silently that Sagat would never harm his face. The whoosh of an object moving in the air and the crackle of leather against skin quickly made Vega forget about Sagat. He could hear the whip move through the air once again. He winced, expecting a blow, but instead it licked the air above his head with a sadistic, staccato snap.

"Don't play games with him," Sagat chided, and the wielder of the whip complied, bringing the whip across his lower back and buttocks vicious, stinging licks.

Every time the whip stung his back, Vega thrust forward from the force, but he didn't cry out. Instead, he tightened his jaw, clamping his teeth down so hard he feared they would shatter. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he felt the razor edged tip of the whip slice at his skin. There was the distinct tingle of air touching open flesh. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to find a place in his mind where he could hide from the pain.

The tail of the whip wrapped around his shoulder, cutting into the soft tissue. Vega gasped. It wasn't the blow that made him gasp, but the fact that the whip had nearly grazed his face. Ororo moaned in sympathy for him. "Oh Goddess," she repeated continuously. It didn't stop. Every inch of his body seemed to feel the fury of that whip.

He didn't know how long the flogging lasted, but at one point, he lost all sense of where he was. He screamed silently, opening his mouth, but not allowing the sound escape. Then without warning, his limbs went limp. The last thing he remembered hearing was Sagat taunting laugh and Ororo praying to her goddess.

The darkness didn't provide the safe haven he hoped for. Instead, the images from his dream earlier haunted him. _They _were still laughing at him. The noble Vega receiving a beating he would never forget. He tried to chase them away in his dreams, but the further he ran, the farther away they seemed.

The hard slap across his face brought him back to reality. His body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to fold into a ball on the floor. Sagat was trying to reduce him to a blubbering idiot. A plethora of emotions ran through him, ranging from self-pity to vengeance. _Oh yes, I will have my revenge, Sagat. Don't doubt that._ Vega vowed for the umpteenth time since he had been captured.

"Bring a basin of water and salve. Ororo will attend to his wounds. I don't want them getting infected and having him die from something so simple. I'd really like him to stick around for a while. I have so many things planned for him," Sagat said to one of his servants. The servant scrambled quickly from the room. Sagat then turned on his heels and motioned for his guards to follow him out of the room without another backward glance at Ororo and Vega.

The servant returned quickly, setting the water and salve along with some clothing a few feet away from Ororo. The servant cast one fearful glance at Ororo before scurrying out the room once again. No doubt, he had heard the rumors of her being a witch. When the door closed, Vega released his first moans of pain. Ororo went to his side quickly and unbound him from his restraints. He fell forward onto his knees, releasing another torturous groan.

Bloody slashes covered the front of his thighs, arms, and chest where the whip had wrapped around his body. She didn't know if she wanted to look the wounds on his back. She bundled his hair in her hands; the ends of his hair were stained red with his own blood. She placed it over his shoulders and shifted her body so she could look at his back.

Her stomach turned at the sight of the deep rips in his back; they criss-crossed in complete disorder, leaving a trail of bloody mess behind them. The tattoo that wrapped around his body was badly malformed from the beating he had taken. She closed her eyes to compose herself. She could do this. "The burning…" Vega murmured.

Ororo moved away from Vega for a moment to retrieve the basin of water and ointment. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she cleaned the wounds. She had seen worse. She had probably received worse in battle, but to watch a person tortured before her eyes was frightening. "It will stop soon" she promised. Tears burned her eyes as she dressed his wounds. She fashioned the ripped pieces of his shirt into bandages. When she was done, she faced him again.

Vega's shaking fingers touched Ororo's damp face. "Don't cry for me." He wasn't quite sure if he understood the feeling that surged through him to know that she cared about him. She had pleaded for his life, and she cried for him.

Ororo picked up the clothes the servant had left and handed them to Vega. "You should dress," she said meekly, and he accepted the clothing from her. She turned from him again. Not because she was ashamed of seeing him naked, but because she felt odd seeing him at such a vulnerable state. This was the first time she had seen him without his conceit.

"Does my nakedness offend you, Ororo?" he asked her as he slowly dressed.

She didn't turn to look at him. She didn't know if that was an invitation to look or not, but she still didn't look at him. "Why would your nudity offend me, a woman who once was content riding the winds in her natural glory? No, Vega, I am a child of the earth. Nudity is the ultimate form of natural beauty to me. I turn out of respect."

A few minutes of silence passed between the two before Vega asked, "What will you do once you get out of here?"

"I will go back home, back to teaching," she answered wistfully, leaving out the part about home being X-men headquarters; he probably wouldn't have cared anyway. She would give anything to be back at the mansion right then, tending to her garden, teaching a class, or even chiding Logan for some riotous offense. _Logan…_ She said softly to herself.

"I'm going back home as well, to Barcelona. I will never return here again. It's beautiful in Barcelona. You should visit sometime. I think you would enjoy it," Vega said breaking her thoughts. He settled on the floor, slowly, so he wouldn't agitate his wounds.

"Maybe, I will, Vega." _If we ever get out of here…_ She added to herself silently.


	6. Hate

_**Five  
Hate**_

He paced in front of the door that would lead him to Ororo and Vega, debating with himself whether he wanted to reenter or not. Ororo was supposed to be dressing Vega's wounds from the flogging he took not too long ago. He couldn't stand the thought of Ororo touching that bastard, but something in him wanted to see how far they'd take it, if they'd really come to some sort of understanding.

There was no love lost between Sagat and his former colleague; that's why he found it so easy to treat him as a slave. His ego swelled whenever he saw Vega forced into submission. Was Sagat vain? No, but he did have an ego that needed to be stroked from time to time. Maybe, he was proud in his own right, but his pride would never rival that of the Spaniard.

It hadn't been his decision to capture Vega. Bison himself had actually made that crucial decision. Why? Sagat wasn't sure. Maybe, Bison had tired of the volatile fighter's behavior. Vega had botched up more than a few missions. A normal man would have admitted his mistakes to a man like Bison, but Vega always held his blamelessness in the matter. Typical Vega behavior. Sagat hadn't expected anything less of the man.

Sagat remembered a mission where Vega had taken out a French assassin hired by Bison to accompany Vega to assassinate important figures in the French government. The mission was completed, but not until after Vega had robbed the poor French assassin of his life. Sagat didn't think that Bison minded much that Vega had killed the man. That was one less person he had to pay after all, but the fact that Vega would go against Bison's order for his own fulfillment was another. Vega used to be Bison's doting lapdog, but lately, he'd started to become more and more of a loose cannon, going on his own agenda. That would never do with Bison.

It wasn't too long after that Bison met with Sagat in Thailand.

"Do as you will with him. Just make sure he's taken care of. If it means, you want to enslave him in that _delightful_ establishment you run, then so be it." The word delightful had rolled off Bison's tongue with a sarcastic sting, and Sagat knew without a doubt the word was meant to offend him. "Just get rid of him, and do it with as little show as possible." And that was all he had said. He gave Sagat no explanations on why he wanted Vega gone; he just made it clear he expected Sagat to do the dirty work. He always wanted Sagat to do the dirty.

It might have been insulting if Sagat hadn't looked forward to putting Vega in his place. He was glad Bison wanted him to _get rid_ of Vega. It was no secret that he hated Vega, but he was cordial to him because they couldn't afford to be in discord in their line of work. Now, it wouldn't matter. He could do as he pleased with Vega, and he would enjoy every minute of it. The scenario of how he would tame a proud man such as Vega played a thousand times repeatedly in his head.

He still remembered the day he "captured" Vega clearly. The scene played like a movie reel. In fact, it happened a few days after he "acquired" Ororo from the X-men. He made arrangements to meet Vega at his countryside villa in Barcelona for a "business" meeting. Sagat took a private jet to Spain. He had always loathed Spain. Actually… maybe, he hadn't hated the country until he met Vega—the most despicable thing to come out of that wretched country. It didn't have half the esteem of Thailand.

The minute he stepped foot on Spanish land, he immediately wanted to get his business over with, so he could leave. Once he and a couple of his men arrived at Vega's estate, Sagat observed Vega's home, and the first thing that came to mind was "spoiled bastard." A servant showed them to the garden only after Sagat agreed to snuff his cigar where Vega sat, staring out at the land or something. Sagat didn't know, and he didn't care. But he would admit at that moment that Vega did have a reason to be vain.

Alone, most of his features were quite common, but together they pieced together a stunning individual. The sun made his reddish-blonde hair glint marvelously in the noonday sun as it fell in cascades down his back. Taut muscles showed through the austere shirt and pants he wore. Graceful movements that had taken him years to perfect accented his every moving action. Blue eyes glittered mischievously adorning an attractive face that held no blemishes. He was young, lithe, and handsome, and to top it all off, he was wealthy. Yes, he was every woman's fantasy and every man's hero.

Being the courteous host he was, Vega offered didn't offer Sagat and his men a seat. He made it clear that Sagat was crowding his "beautiful" space, and he wanted him gone as quickly as possible. Vega didn't realize how vulnerable he was at that moment. All it would have taken is one quick motion and Saga could've snapped his neck like a twig. Then, he would have let the animals feast on Vega's rotting corpse out of disrespect.

"What business do you have with me?" Vega asked. His voice betrayed distrust. Sagat knew that Vega probably sensed the danger he was about to be in. Vega's senses were highly acute, but they wouldn't save him this time.

Sagat didn't answer him at first as he eyed the young man. Vega who thought he was more beautiful than everyone, who had accused Sagat of being jealous of his beauty many times. How could Sagat envy physical beauty when he planned to rule the world? "I'm here to inform you that your services are no longer needed," Sagat answered.

"What?" Vega stood quickly from his seat.

Two of Sagat's men started to advance on him, and Sagat stood amused in Vega's garden as his men battled with Vega. He knew he could end it all right then, but what fun would that be? At first, it looked like his men had the upper hand, but Vega was a crafty one. He should have known that they were no match for him.

So, he slipped one of them a needle and nodded satisfied as the needle was thrust into Vega's neck. The sedative took immediate effect, stopping Vega in his track. Then, they had carted him off to Thailand while Sagat visualized the horrors he would subject Vega to.

It had been too easy like it had been when he captured Ororo. They thought they were so smart, but they fell into his traps before they could even realize what happened. The traps themselves had been so simple, so basic in concept. _Never underestimate a good old fashion setup. _He chuckled to himself.

He hadn't really expected things to go so well with Ororo. She was part of an elite superhuman force; they entertained the notion they were destined to save the world or something. He did a little research on them beforehand, and some of them were packing some pretty impressive powers such as that Jean Grey and Remy LeBeau. They would definitely be valuable assets to his team. Too bad they were dedicated to truth, justice, and all that other bullshit.

Kidnapping the young girl and luring them team to Thailand had been easy enough. That hadn't been his main concern; the inevitable fight had been his primary worry. He hadn't really expected to come out victorious in that fight. He could only hope that by assaulting them with mass numbers of troops, he would come out on top, and he had been right. Manpower had defeated mutant power. He had even talked Cammy and Balrog into making a special appearance only after promising to reward them nicely.

One of those mutants made a valiant effort to save Ororo. The man with the claws, Logan, if his memory was correct. Sagat read in his files that Logan's claws weren't his mutant specialty per se, but his uncanny healing ability. He had been impressive to say the least. His anger intensified his fighting ability, but in the end, the balled fist of Balrog was the decision maker. Now, Sagat had what he desired.

Ororo wasn't a necessity; she was a want. They had a steamy affair some years back when she was feeding off that whole Goddess gig in Africa. Who was he kidding? It had been more than affair; hell, he fell in love with her, admitting that fact made his jaw tightened in disdain. Falling in love was for the feeble, and he was _not_ weak.

He had gone to Africa for business as usual, and in one of the villages, he heard about the goddess who rode the winds and took care of the people. From the way they talked about her, she was a living, breathing Mother Earth. They feared her, and curiosity got the better of him. He thought it was a scam when he first saw her. There was this beautiful, nude young woman basically being worshipped by these naïve people who thought she could control the weather. It wasn't such a bad idea; everyone had to make a living.

Yeah, he believed she was a fraud until he saw her actually ascend from the ground. The first thing that ran through his mind was the power she could bring him. He had always been rather greedy. He set about finding out what he could about this "goddess." For a while, nothing could be traced about her, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he started to believe that she might be a goddess until he got his hand on some very valuable information.

Her name was Ororo Munroe, and she had been orphaned at a very young age. She wasn't a goddess, but homo superior, a mutant. That was all he needed to know. So, he went back to the village, revealing he knew she wasn't really a goddess, but human. At first, she had been furious with him for digging into her past life, and it had taken a while for her to come around.

He thought she really came around because it was nice to talk to someone who didn't kiss her feet. Even goddesses need companionship. Later, she admitted that she was giving up the goddess gimmick to go to America. A man named who ran a school for mutants was filling her head with stupid ideas that she could help save the world.

Sagat sidetracked her quest for a while; he couldn't let her go then. His ultimate goal had been power, but it turned into something more. It was never that lovey-dovey shit people saw on TV. It was more like him trying to dominate her, but at the same time, he felt like she was dominating him. He definitely didn't like that. She was just a frail woman. How could she dominate him?

Another thing that bothered him was her untamed nature, and no matter what he did, he couldn't tame her. Her innate nature wouldn't allow. He was trying to control what couldn't be control. He knew she would never feel as strongly about him as he did her, but she cared about him a little or she wouldn't have stayed that long. Right? Sagat would admit that maybe he didn't make himself too easy to love.

He was ashamed that he actually loved her. Love equaled weak in his book. She didn't know how hard it was to remain a strong figure in front of your men when you were in love. It was hard to keep your head up when they believed a woman ruled over you. He hadn't expected all that when he first saw Ororo.

She probably felt more like a slave than a lover to him most times. He still remembered the night she left him; they argued because he was selfish. She refused to be part of his plot to rule the world. She didn't believe in enslavement; she had values. She could be a queen, a goddess in his world. But she didn't want people to revere her anymore. She wanted to do some good in the world. They argued about the subject before, but it escalated to violent proportions that night. He had actually struck her repeatedly out of anger.

He remembered they had the worst storm he had ever seen that night. She could have easily killed him that night, but she didn't. She left instead. It wasn't the fact that she left that bothered him. It was the fact that she waited until he was sleep and floated away on her wind or whatever it was she did. He actually hated her for a while, and he still did a little. He promised himself that he would have her back.

He had bided his time until he thought it was the right time. She was foolish if she thought she had hidden from him all those years. He knew she had gone to America and joined those peace-seeking idiots. He kept tabs on everything she did. Part of him realized, he had only captured her to mend old hurts, perhaps to get his revenge if she continued to push him, and he should probably let it go. But he couldn't. "You're growing soft in your old age," he reprimanded himself.

Now, he had his goddess back, and he was more than willing to put her on the plinth where she belonged. She still refused. _Some things never change. _He said to himself bitterly. Not even threats could make her change her mind. She was convinced that if he hurt or even killed her, she would be taking one for the team, for the greater good. It was disgusting.

He heard singing. It was Ororo's voice, and she was singing in a foreign tongue. It sounded Arabic. Was she singing for Vega? She had never sung for him, yet she sung for a narcissistic, bloodthirsty monster. Perhaps she was singing for her own comfort, but he was much more comfortable believing the worse. She was singing for Vega.

His heart filled with…

- - -

_Hate._

Logan was running on pure hate. Hate for the man who had taken Ororo and hate for the people who called themselves 'Ro's friends. He wondered if they even knew he was gone. Probably so. The Cajun had probably opened his trap and blabbed to Scott that Logan he had taken off to rescue Ororo. _Well, somebody sure as hell had to do it._ Logan snarled to himself.

He hadn't slept since leaving the mansion. His only concern was getting to Ororo and getting her back where she belonged, and he didn't care who he had to gut to do it. If he had to go through Jesus fucking Christ himself, he wouldn't hesitate to rip him a new one, too. His first impulse told him to go back to Hua Hin; she probably wasn't there, but now without the X-men, he could get answers the Wolverine way. He didn't care who he had to slice up to find her.

He would find this Sagat character and make him regret the day he ever laid eyes on him, and if Sagat had hurt her, well if he wasn't a religious man, he'd better believe that Logan was going to put the fear of God in him. Ororo was his friend, the only friend who understood the wild side of him—the innately feral side of himself—that he fought so hard to control. She understood because she was also a child of nature, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was equally as untamable.

She was his confidant, always listening to his grievances, never asking for anything in return. She alone had the ability to calm him with that voice. _That voice_—it sounded like a calm breeze rustling through leaves. Wise and ageless. She often gave him valuable advice on Jean and Scott. Jean who couldn't decide between her own fiancé and him. He sometimes wondered why he even bothered with the broad. Ororo always remained very objective about it.

And Christ, Ororo smelled good. That may mean nothing to most people, but he was an animal that relied on his heightened sense of smell. She never wore perfume (unlike Jean who seemed to put on gallons of the stuff, and it irritated his nose to no end). She had a natural scent of juniper and sandalwood. It was a comfort smell for him. Some people had comfort foods, but he had comfort smells. And Jeannie's loud ass perfume wasn't one of them.

She had even started letting him train her for combat. She wasn't much of a fighter. She hated physical violence, but the professor wanted her to learn how to fight. She couldn't always rely on her abilities to get her out of a jam. The situation with the Isle of Genosha had taught her that. Even though she didn't condone violence, she was eager to learn, and she picked up surprisingly well.

He was never really good at expressing his feelings to people he cared about. But in a nutshell, he was most comfortable with her, and now that she was missing, he felt a bigger part of him was missing.

He spotted a shock of white hair in the distance, and he instinctively started pushing past people. Had Ororo cut her hair…? He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. She was just a kid; she couldn't have been older than seventeen. She was just as tall as 'Ro, but she was all legs. "Sorry, kid. I thought ya were someone else fer a moment," he muttered, releasing the tight hold he had on her. He had to stop jumping to conclusions or he would never find Ororo.

"Who?" the girl asked with youthful curiosity.

Logan frowned at the girl. He didn't like nosy kids, and she was no exception. "Just someone ya don't know, kid," he answered in an annoyed tone.

"I bet I do know her," she shot back at him. What was with the kid? He could already tell she was a barrel of trouble. "I bet she's an unnamed goddess, descended from a line of African priestesses."

"How do ya know all this, kid?" he asked, masking his concern. Did she have something to do with Ororo coming up missing? Because he had no reserves about threatening her to get the answers that he needed.

"First, please stop calling me kid. My name is Elena, and I think I can help you find her," the girl continued, her eyes glittering eerily. Could this girl read minds like the Professor and Jean? He wasn't really keen on the idea of someone invading his mind.


	7. Prove

_**Six  
Prove**_

"Ain't ya ever comin' up fer air?" Logan asked, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. She had been talking nonstop since he met her, and the only thing he had been able to gather from any of her constant chatter was that 'Ro was once worshipped in her tribe (where Elena was a princess – go figure) and that she couldn't read minds. "Get back ta the point. 'Ro was worshipped in yer tribe. Big fuckin' deal. What does that have ta do with ya knowin' where she is?"

He had been sitting with this girl at a restaurant for the better part of half an hour, waiting for her to tell him where Ororo was, and she still hadn't told him what he wanted to know. The girl bore an uncanny resemblance to Ororo. She had that same white hair and sky-blue eyes. It was almost unsettling to look at her.

"My father said it was a blessing my hair came out this color," Elena said as if reading his mind, pulling a short strand of her ashen locks, avoiding his question. The kid was crafty—he would give her that much. "And my eyes were the same blue color. You know she blessed me while I was still in my mother's womb. Father says that it's the reason I have such a deep-rooted respect for nature and…"

She trailed off, and he was growing restless with her constant run around. He only had so much patiencet, and he was starting to run on E. "An' what?" He he demanded. She looked at him fearfully for a moment.

"Nothing," she murmured. "The Goddess is being held in a corrupt village deep in the heart of the Thai jungle, where Sagat resides. He holds that city in his clutches with an iron first. You wouldn't believe some of the things that go on there. The main attraction is his arena where many noble fighters have been called to at the promise of respect and money. That's where she is."

"How do ya know this?" he asked. What was a kid doing with that information?

"I saw her. She was fighting alongside a man in Sagat's arena against two big German men. First, she was fighting hand-to-hand with one of the men while her partner fought the other. She had some type of collar on, and her mate ripped it off her neck with his claw –"

"Claw." Logan felt the space between his knuckles contract in response, and Elena nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it was attached to this glove thing that attached to his arm. He took the collar off the Goddessgoddess, and then she ascended into the sky and used her powers to defeat the two men. That's when I knew she was the one who protected our village for so long. Then, the man who fought with her was shot with some sort of dart. The Goddess started to attack, but Sagat held a child hostage. And you know the Goddess goddess –"

"Would never risk the life of vanother, 'specially not a child." Logan finished for her. "What happened then, princess?"

"Elena, my name is Elena," she reminded him annoyed. "They put one of those weird collars back on her. Then, she was taken away with the man. That's the last time I saw her."

"How long was this?"

"A few days ago. Maybe longer. I could take you to her."

Logan instantly started shaking his head. He wasn't going to be responsible for looking out for a kid all while trying to find Ro. "I ain't no babysitter, an' I sure as hell ain't 'bout ta go paradin' around in the jungle with a kid. Thanks, but no thanks, princess."

"I can take care of myself! I just want to help you rescue her," she said. And she was starting to get that same look he'd seen on Ororo's face one too many times.

"I don't need _yer_ help ta rescue her." He stood abruptly from the table. He had already wasted too much time with her as it was, and now he was heading out to the jungle.

"You don't even know where to start. Do you realize how vast the Thai jungle is, Mr. Logan? How are you supposed to find her? Luck?" the girl asked sarcastically, standing as well. She sure was mouthy. "I can help you find her."

"No, an' that's the last time I'm tellin' ya. Go play with yer dolls or somethin'." He gave her a final scathing glance as he walked out of the restaurant.

Elena smiled mischievously after him. He didn't think he was just going to shake her that easy… did he?

- - -

He watched her breath in and out, evenly. He didn't think she was sleep; rather, she seemed to be meditating. He wasn't sure if she had slept at all in the last few days. She was a strange one this Ororo. She didn't talk much. She didn't betray the weaknesses he associated with women.

He'd been around enough women in dire situations to know what they usually did. He had killed quite a few. They begged for their derisory lives as if the fact that they were women would make him think twice about killing them. Tears and methods of seduction seemed to be their main weapon of choice. Tears only made him enjoy the kill more, and their womanly wiles had no effect on him.

Not all women did those things. There was always those special few who defied the standard, and Ororo was one of those women. She didn't shed pathetic tears, and she didn't attempt to use her body to persuade Sagat. She was scared, her eyes betrayed that fact, but her behavior did not. She always stood with her head held high in silent rebellion.

"What do you teach at this school of yours?" he asked.

"History," she answered, her eyes still closed, her breathing still steady.

He made a throaty noise akin to dislike, and she opened her eyes slowly, blinking rapidly. "History? Is that all? With your fighting skill, I thought you would be teaching something a little more exciting."

"Without History, there would be no future, and I am still learning about the art of fighting myself, Vega. My friend, Logan, is training me in the area of martial arts. His knowledge in the area is unparalleled by many." She smiled slightly when mentioning this friend, and Vega felt a sense of competitiveness even though he had never met this man.

"He may have been the best fighter you've ever known until you met me. My skill is unmatched." Vega said arrogantly. "I taught myself everything I know. I have combined the art of ninjitsu with the eloquent style of the matador. Would you care to battle me?"

Ororo shook her head slowly. "You are hurt. I cannot fight an injured man, even if I am somewhat of a novice. I may injure you more, and you will need your strength for whatever tests Sagat might put us through."

"You underestimate me." Vega said, his temper flaring slightly. She treated him as if he were an invalid. She still failed to realize that he was the best and most beautiful fighter in the world. Her beloved Logan wouldn't stand a chance against him in mêlée.

"No, you _are_ a talented fighter. I saw that in our battle together, and you have nothing more to prove to me," Ororo insisted, but her words fell on death ears.

"Just a little test of skill, nothing more, Ororo. You should know me well enough by now to know that I live for the fight." He continued to talk to her until she finally relented.

"Okay," she said, standing uncertainly. She swatted a lose strand of her hair out of her face.

Vega smiled at her unfeelingly as he took his stance. Ororo followed suit, crouching slightly she coiled her hands close to her body, pointing her fingers out. He knew the style well. In his years of fighting, he had a few opponents that practiced the same art, "She-Quan, snake fist, impressive, but it is no match for me I'm afraid," Vega said smirking at her.

It started out innocently enough. Ororo took the defensive, and Vega was content with taking the offensive. She was quite skilled at countering attacks, but he got in more than his fair share of attacks, using some advanced techniques against her moves. Soon, the fighting became more intense. "I live for the fight," he said to himself, circling her, forgetting they were only matching skills and not engaging in rigorous combat.

He didn't see Ororo before him anymore. Instead, he saw the faces of former opponents – people he had beaten mercilessly. He punched at her, and she quickly sidestepped his punch, turning her back toward him. She quickly turned her upper torso, striking him in the ribs, sending shooting pains up his side. She twisted her torso again, positioning herself behind him. He felt her strike him roughly on the back of the neck.

He quickly turned toward her, recovering from the blow, ignoring the pain. She was standing at her full height then, raising her forward foot. She positioned her hands at chest level, her fingers pointed high. She struck suddenly, like a cobra, aiming for his face. Without thought, he grabbed her wrist roughly, turning slightly, thrusting an elbow in her stomach. She made an "oof" sound as he knocked her windless. Her free hand fell to her midsection.

Still holding her wrist, he used one foot to sweep her feet from under her. She tottered forward unable to make a sound. He fell to his knees, flipping her over his shoulders, causing her to fall to the floor on her back with a hard thud. He positioned his fist at the base of her throat under the tight-fitting collar, breathing remorselessly. "_Never_ try to hit me in _the face_," he hissed at her. He could crush her throat with one move if he wanted. He felt powerful then.

Anger reflected in her normally calm eyes. She boldly slapped his fist away from her throat, rolling away from him. She stood quickly, frowning at him. Vega stood slowly. She held her palm out to him and motioned for him to come. She had a fighting spirit.

He assaulted her with a barrage of kicks and punches that she blocked efficiently. He brought his foot up to kick her again, and she caught it, pushing him backwards. Then, a look of alarm flashed across her face as she tried to catch him and stop him from landing on his back. The fall was inevitable, and she only brought herself along for the ride.

They fell in a tangle of limbs and angry emotions. He fell on his back hard, closing his eyes in pain. She landed on top of him and he opened his eyes slowly, scowling at her. There was no longer any anger in her eyes, only concern. "I am sorry." She breathed above him. He was angry with her, but at the same time… there was something else… As if sensing his thoughts, she stood quickly and took her seat against the wall again.

- - -

Logan stopped for a moment, sniffing the air. "Ya can stop hidin' now, kid. I know you've been followin' me since I left the city," Logan said, not turning to face the girl. He heard the shuffle of feet behind him and the distinct sound of surprise. He continued his trek, not addressing the girl again.

"How did you know I was following you, Mr. Logan?" She asked, quickening her pace to catch up to him.

"I got my ways," he answered. She sure had a lot of nerve following him, and he thought that she would eventually give up and go back to the city. However, she hadn't given up. "I thought I told ya not ta go stickin' yer nose in business that don't concern ya."

"I can help you!" She insisted, her jaw setting firmly.

Logan sighed. It was obvious he wasn't going to be able to get rid of her. "You'd better not get in my way," he growled. She yelped triumphantly. The sun was starting to set on the jungle, giving it a golden hue. Elena chattered constantly about whatever came to mind— – home, school, her family. Logan stopped abruptly. Elena following suit, but she still talked, despite Logan's obvious growing uneasiness.

"Shut up, will ya?" Logan said, sniffing the air. Elena quieted looking at him curiously. He growled, recognizing the familiar smell of his rival. "Creed."

Victor Creed stepped into the clearing, accompanied by a huge, black man. They were holding large bags. "Look at what we got here, Birdie," Creed said, addressing the man at his side. "If it ain't the runt, an' what do ya have there? I see ya got yerself a sweet, young piece of ass. Kinda reminds me of the weather witch. Why don't ya introduce me to yer friend? Maybe, she'd like ta have a little fun with a real man. It gets lonely out here in the jungle."

Creed moved closer to them, eyeing Elena, and Logan sensed Elena's body tightening defensively at his side. He knew it was a bad idea to let her accompany him. He should've made the girl go back to the city when he realized that she was indeed following him. If Creed got hands on her, there was no telling what he would do to the girl.

"Yeah, well, look at a dirty magazine 'cause ya ain't touchin' her as long as she's with me, Creed. So, ya know what that means. You want her. Ya gotta go through me first, asshole." Logan snarled, clenching his fists at his side.

"Always had a soft spot fer the pretty ones, didn't ya, runt?"

"I just ain't too keen on the idea of ya layin' ya filthy hands on her, Creed." Logan quipped, wondering why he could never seem to get away from Victor Creed—Sabretooth—no matter where he went.

The four stood in the clearing, neither pair of people moving as they eyed each other silently. They would fight; there was no getting around that. The question was who was going to dispense the first, deciding blow, and how was Logan supposed to keep the kid from being caught in the crossfire?

Elena let out a shrill cry from Logan's side, nearly catching him off guard as she charged the large man, Birdie. She moved quickly, dropping to her hands, bringing her legs in the air. She let out a series of words he couldn't quite understand as she kicked the man stiffly in the face, sending him backward. She stood again, moving in a rhythmic motion, almost as if she were dancing. Logan recognized the style –— Capoeira.

Logan unsheathed his claws, turning his attention back to Creed who smiled at him sinisterly. The men charged at each other. Bitter rivals engaging in combat, their grunts of effort filling the silence of the jungle. They didn't fight long as Birdie produced a knife out the waistband of his pants.

Moving with great swiftness for a man his size, he evaded a sequence of Elena's kick, planting the knife deeply in her side. She cried out in pain and staggered away from the hulking man. "We've got to get out of here. The boss ain't going to be too happy if we damage the goods."

"Sorry, runt, I can't play no more." Creed sneered, picking up the smaller man and throwing him effortlessly into the air. Logan landed with a thud. Logan quickly regained his fighting posture, shaking off the impact of the throw, facing Creed. "Ya got two choices. Ya can come after me an' die or ya can help the girl an' live to fight another day. Yer choice."

Creed pointed at Elena who was sitting against a tree, her eyes closed, holding the bloody knife that was used to wound her in one hand. Logan rushed over to her. Creed and Birdie disappeared into the jungle.

"We've gotta get ya ta a doctor, kid. You gotcha yaself cut up pretty bad there." He kneeled beside her, looking at the gash in her side. Another delay, but he knew he wasn't going to leave her out there.

Her eyes were still closed tightly as if she were concentrating. She pulled the knife from her wound, letting out a yell that reverberated throughout the jungle. A blue glow encompassed her body, and Logan watched as the wound on her side slowly disappeared. The girl was a mutant, and she had a healing ability very similar to his own. She opened her eyes and said, "I'm okay, Mr. Logan." She closed her eyes again, letting her head rest against the tree. Looks like they were camping there for the night.

- - -

"Are you in love with this Logan?"

The question took her by surprise. She thought he was sleep. In fact, she had been listening to his steady breathing moments before. She had been singing in Arabic again. Not so much for his comfort, but her own. He had fallen asleep a few feet away from her. She couldn't sleep. It had been hours since Sagat left, but she was still feeling the effects of the grisly scenes that had taken place in the room. She also wanted to be alert when, and if, Sagat came back.

Not to mention she was still more than a little shaken up from the fight with Vega. For a moment, she was sure he was going to kill her. She was sure the thought crossed his mind, and then things got a little weird…

"That's a very personal question, Vega," she chided. What would make him ask about love when he seemed to only love himself? Truthfully, she wasn't an avid dater. Some called her finicky; some called her shy. A man even called her a "cold" bitch once when she spurned his advances.

She wasn't looking for just sexual gratification. She wanted someone she could love heart, body, and soul. She had loved and lost quite a few times, but Logan was her friend. She loved him as one loves a friend. She would admit that when they first met she had been attracted to the feral man. Things were different now though.

"Why do you ask?" She asked.

"Because you speak fondly of this man, Logan." He answered thoughtfully. "I have never been in love… unless you count killing, and I love –"

Ororo cringed as that familiar sadistic smile overtook his face. How could he still think of something like killing when he so close to death? "Please, do not tell me. I do not wish to hear anymore." She said quickly interrupting him.

Vega shrugged at her, seemingly untroubled by her obvious repugnance. "My father arranged for me to marry a girl when I was younger. I didn't love her, and she was quite dreadful to look at. The only reason my father wanted me to marry her was because of the status of her family."

"Did you marry her?" Ororo asked.

"No, I killed her and left her body lying in her family's courtyard." He answered, pride swelling in his voice. It was one of his first kills. "I don't need anyone. Whores can fulfill sexual desires as well as a wife could, and they don't come with those sickening emotions."

Ororo hated to think where she would be if she had ever faced him in battle. He didn't seem to have much of a conscience. "A wife isn't just a lover meant to satisfy carnal needs…"

"That's all she would mean to me." He said stubbornly. Didn't Ororo understand that he didn't need anyone in life? He was content to living a solitary life that allowed him the thrill of the kill. "I believe lovers should be chained together and thrown into a fire, left there to burn in their so-called loving bliss."

He spoke so hatefully toward love, and her words failed her. How does one explain love and devotion to someone like him? He didn't seem touched by her words anyway. He winced painfully. "What's wrong?" She asked him. He stood and turned his back toward her. She could see blood starting to ooze through the simple shirt. Undoubtedly, their small skirmish had reopened his wounds.

A servant had long taken the basin and salve away. "Remove the shirt. Let me inspect the wounds." She looked at the bloody, makeshift bandages helplessly as he moved closer to her. She removed them quickly, his blood splattering on her skin. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in a situation like this.

She ripped his shirt up, making new provisional bandages for his back. What if Sagat had Vega beaten more? How many more beatings could he sustain? Vega seemed resilient, but she doubted he would be able to take much more abuse of that caliber.

The door to the room opened and a couple of guards walked in, pulling the two away from each other. "Naptime's over, kids. Good news, you're entertainin' in the pit tonight."


	8. Resist

**_Seven  
Resist_**

There was only one opponent this time, but he proved more than enough for both of them. The man went simply by the name Bayman. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as the previous challengers were. He dressed simply in black, his green eyes determined. He didn't taunt as their former opponents had. He was a man with a mission.

Bayman was quick and he moved with daunting precision. Each methodical move was perfectly executed to wound and debilitate. He had targeted Vega first, undoubtedly because he was injured. Ororo had tried to be of assistance, but he swatted her away like a fly, picking her up and slamming her forcefully to the ground with ease. She curled into a tight ball as she tried to regain her breath.

She saw black for a full minute before she was able to shake off the blow, and by that time, Bayman crossed Vega's leg, pulling them back as he sat on the man's back. He wrapped one arm around Vega's leg, pulling them back further, and used his now free arm to hook around Vega's neck. It was some sort of submission move.

She stood up groggily, trying to regain her balance. When she looked at them again, Bayman was already standing, turning toward her, and Vega lay motionless on the ground. As he lay there, unmoving, she feared the worse for him.

She knew what she had to do, and she hated Sagat for putting her in this predicament. Hadn't she already killed enough for this monster? "Goddess, forgive me," she whispered to herself. The crowd's cheers for more blood came louder and louder as she stood face to face with Bayman. A malevolent smile covered his face as he measured her up.

He took a defensive stance, speaking to her in Russian. She could only pick up a few words she had learned from Piotr in the man's speech. Even though, she couldn't understand him. She was sure he wasn't saying that he wanted to have a dinner date. She knew that if he got her in his clutches, she probably wouldn't last long.

He walked toward her slowly at first, and she backed away. He charged at her then, hands posed to grab. She dodged his grasp, and quickly landed three quick, sharp quick kicks to his midsection. He doubled over in pain, his breathing already coming in difficult processions. Using one of his bent knees as a foothold, she hoisted herself on his shoulders with lightening quick accuracy. The move had taken her a while to perfect.

She cradled his head between her hands and swiftly twisted with a violent motion before he had a chance to react; she grimaced as she heard the sickening crack of bones breaking, filling her ears. His body slumped forward, and Ororo quickly jumped off his shoulders, standing over his body. This was twice she had to kill to appease Sagat. Twice she had to kill gratuitously, not only for Sagat, but for the enjoyment of others as well.

She had survived, but for what? This man lying before her had committed no evil against her. He had been promised fame and fortune instead he met an untimely death at her hands – for nothing.

The crowd cheered lustfully at the brutal display of aggression. Animals, they were nothing more than bloodthirsty animals. As she looked at the greedy faces of these people, she realized that maybe in some sense Vega was right about these people. No, she couldn't let her dismal position cloud her mind. Bitterness would get her nowhere. These people weren't to blame for her situation – only one man was to blame for that.

Ororo looked in the direction of Sagat's personal viewing area, her eyes cold. He smiled at her mockingly, clapping slowly. She curled her lip at him and turned her back on him. She walked back toward Vega's body. He wasn't dead, just unconscious. His breathing was coming in labored spasms. She reached down to touch his still body.

Guards flocked into the arena, ripping her away from him. One of the guards threw Vega's listless body over his shoulder without much finesse. She turned back toward the dead man briefly to see another man weeping beside his body. Ororo felt her own eyes sting as she watched the man close his comrade's eyes, and then she was jerked into a door.

She was directed down a hallway in the opposite direction of Vega, and she suppressed a protest. As much as she hated to admit it, he had become somewhat of a comfort to her. They seemed to have formed an unlikely alliance. Given normal circumstances, she would've probably loathed Vega, but these definitely were not normal circumstances.

The guards led Ororo to a room where a girl waited patiently. Raven locks framed her cherub face. Ororo smiled gently at her as the girl approached her cautiously, reaching for Ororo's hand. She was young, but her eyes betrayed a wealth of worldly knowledge. She knew the girl was probably part of a harem, nothing more than a body slave trained to serve Sagat.

She took her to a tub filled to the brim with water. "I have been sent to prepare you for lord Sagat," the girl said. Ororo frowned, but didn't object as the girl undressed her and prompted her to sit in the tub. Ororo slowly started to clean herself; the girl scrubbed her back dutifully. "They call you a witch. Is… is it true?" She asked fearfully.

"No, child, I am not a witch. They fear me because I am different from them." Ororo answered simply, and this answer seemed enough to sedate the girl. The girl supplied her with garments to wear after her bath, and then started to brush Ororo's hair submissively. "Where are your parents?"

She felt the girl pause. "Dead. Lord Sagat was kind enough to take me in when my parents were killed. I can stay here as long as I remain… remain…" The girl's voice faltered.

"No, need to explain any more to me, child." Ororo said, patting the girl's hand motherly. The girl was young, too young for the hand life dealt her. Forced into a life of servitude when she should be enjoying her years of youth. Ororo knew how it was learning to depend on one's self at a very young age.

The girl finished quickly finished, and Ororo found herself being led away again. This time she was escorted into a plush bedroom. She stood in the middle of the room. She didn't want to think about what possibly went on in that room. She heard the door open, and she turned around, narrowing her eyes as he entered the room.

Sagat drank in her appearance, licking his lips causing a thin film of saliva to cover them. She couldn't believe that she had once loved that man. Maybe, she hadn't really loved him. Perhaps, it had been infatuation. She was young at the time, and he had been her first lover. The first man she had willingly given herself to.

She stood her ground, staunchly, when he walked over to her. Pushing her hair away from her shoulders he said, "You don't know how long I've waited for this."

"You don't want me," she hissed at him, pulling away from him. "You _never_ wanted me. You _want_ my powers and all the so-called supremacy it can bring you. That is all you have ever wanted from me."

He grabbed her wrists brusquely, pulling her toward him. Their faces mere inches apart. "Wrong, Ororo, I want you _and_ your powers." He grinned at her. "Have you forgotten how I made you feel?"

He was teasing her. That was so like him. Of course, she hadn't forgotten. No matter how much she abhorred him, she would never forget their time together. He was far more experienced than she had been then, and he had taught her things about her body she would never forget. Oh yes, she remembered well.

She remembered the languorous kisses up and down her spine as she bit down on her lower lip suppressing a moan, the fingers teasing her most intimate spots. She remembered the sudden, gentle showers her emotions would conjure up, but above all, she remembered that feeling. That delicious warm feeling that made her thighs quiver, the feeling that made her lose all coherent thought, but she didn't want to remember.

Even when she thought about it now, it made her knees weak. He touched her bare stomach; her abs clenched involuntarily under his soft touch. Her body was giving way to lust. _Bright Lady, please guide me._ She pleaded silently. "Don't make me chase you. Don't resist me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

Ororo clenched her teeth, fighting old feelings. They were nothing more than ghosts that needed to be banished. "I have to. I could never forgive myself if I helped you enslave and destroy innocent people."

"Innocent?" He chuckled heartily. "When those people cried for blood tonight, did you think they were so innocent then? No, I saw your face as you looked at those barbarians. For just a moment, you hated them."

"For a moment, yes, I did despise them," she admitted, dropping her head. "But if I were to aid you, what would make me any less barbaric than they are? They are people, only acting on an intrinsic, primal instinct."

"This professor of yours really has your head pumped full of this justice shit, doesn't he?" Sagat growled. His hands were on her shoulders, and he was shaking her viciously. The mood in the room shifted as Sagat's anger began to build. "What do I have to do? Coercion? Torture? Don't think that I –"

"I do not care what you do to me," she said quietly.

"So, you've told me, but you _do_ care what I do to others. I think a certain Spaniard will do nicely for what I have in mind." He trailed off then, that familiar wicked smirk crossing his face as he devised a plan.

Ororo shook her head vehemently. "You can't. He is already injured enough. He may not be able to endure any more. Hurt me, if you must, but please… don't…" She pleaded her voice trailing off, but Sagat had already spun on his heel.

The first thing he noticed when he woke was he ached and his hands were shackled too tightly. He felt weak, not just in the physical sense, but the mental sense as well. He winced as the metal pressed into his bruised skin. How could he be in this pitiable position? He—the greatest fighter in the world—having these horrors inflicted upon him. He moved his head around weakly looking for Ororo, but didn't see her. Had she fared well against Bayman?

He knew Bayman well. The two had run into each other more times than Vega wanted to remember. Bayman was an assassin with a soul if such a thing was possible. How one could maintain a conscience and justify their killing was beyond Vega. He'd heard that the man had witnessed the murder of his parents when he was young, shaping him into the man he was (or rather had been).

Bayman was connected to a number of mysterious deaths of involving other assassins, including Christie – a relatively attractive British assassin with cold, gray eyes and a love for killing that was said to rival Vega's. In fact, Vega had been a target of Bayman's, but he foiled Bayman's plans for him. He would've killed the Russian assassin for his boldness to challenge him, but Bayman had been saved by an Italian ex-mercenary named Leon.

He had no doubts that Bayman had participated in the fight to settle the score and had paid for it with his meager life.

Vega didn't remember much of the fight; Sagat hadn't allowed him to have his claw. A lesson well learned. The only thing he could vividly recall of the fight was the blinding, white light of pain searing through his head as the man sat on his back, pulling his limbs, cutting off his air supply. It was a miracle he was even alive; he was sure that Bayman would make quick work of him in his weakened state.

Perhaps, there was a reason he was still trapped in this hell. The door opened and in walked a rather waifish guard. He didn't look much older than 18, but he stuck his chest out proudly as he leered down at Vega. He bowed sardonically before Vega. "Well, if it ain't the greatest fighter in all the world. What I don't understand is if you're so great why are you stuck here being a punching bag for Sagat?"

"Where is Ororo? Is she alive?" He asked the guard, not addressing the simpleton's sad excuse for an insult.

The guard snorted in an offhand manner. "Why do you think you're still around, mate? She jumped on the poor fella's shoulder and broke his bloody neck before he had time to counter. Ain't never seen a woman do that before. I figured you two were pretty much goners after the Russian choked ya out. Never thought I'd see the day when the Spaniard was saved by a broad."

The guard laughed in a mocking manner, and Vega turned his face away from the guard, embarrassed. "Why isn't she here with me then? Where is she?" Vega demanded.

"Oh, does the poor Spaniard miss his mum?" The guard continued to tease. "Don't you worry. You'll see her shortly. I've been sent here to fetch you for Sagat. You know the routine. On all fours, mate."

Vega stood defiantly only to taste the backhand of the guard's fist. The man dared to touch his face! "On your knees, slave. You know you are not supposed to walk before your master." Vega stumbled, dropping to one knee. He dropped his head. The man laughed at him, and Vega felt his own laughter bubbling inside of him.

They mocked him. Oh, how they would beg when he escaped. Their screams would be more beautiful than any symphony ever composed. He would wash his hands in their blood. Vega began to shake unable to control his laughter any longer. He looked at the guard, and the guard looked at him curiously when he realized that Vega was laughing.

"That, señor, was the last time you ever lay your hands on me." Vega spat, quickly standing. He charged the man, knocking him to the ground.

The man uttered a protest as his head hit the cement floor. Vega felt a rush of adrenalin as he wrapped the chains binding his wrists around the man's throat, crossing his wrists pulling tighter and tighter. It didn't matter the restraints were beginning to cut into his wrists, drawing his own blood. He fed off the pain as droplets of his blood decorated the man's face.

The guard opened his mouth to speak, grabbing vainly at Vega's arms. The fear reflected in the man's eyes as he realized this was it for him. Vega watched entranced as fear turned to anger then back to fear. Finally, the man let out a final gurgle and lay still. "No preocuparse. Usted ha muerto una muerte hermosa. Don't worry. You have died a beautiful death."

Vega uncrossed his wrists and gently slid the chain from around the man's neck. "What the hell is talking him so long? He was half-dead when we put him in there. How much trouble could he be?" Vega heard a gruff voice complain from the hallway. Vega used his grimy fingers to close the man's eyes, mixing the blood and dirt.

He watched as a ruby bead rolled down the man's face. A blood tear. Vega licked his lips greedily as he let his tongue catch the droplet on the man's face. "Oh my…." He heard a voice proclaim behind him. He turned hastily to see a guard backing out the door. "He killed him. The bastard killed him while he was still in his restraints Give me the gun. I'm going to blow his goddamn head off."

"We cain't kill 'im. Sagat'll kill us if'n we do that." Another voice argued.

"What are we supposed to do? I sure as hell ain't going back in there so I can end up like our buddy. If it were left up to me, he'd taste the hot steel of this colt commando, but we don't have a choice. We got to get him and take him to Sagat." The first man said.

Moments later, the two entered the room together. Vega stood subdued in a corner, a caged tiger waiting to pounce. The two men approached him slowly. "We ain't gonna hurt ya, boy, unless ya make us." The larger of the two men said. Vega weighed his chances against both men. If he weren't restrained, neither man would stand a chance. He would have to go with them willingly.

"You're going to have to crawl. Sagat won't have it any other way," the other guard said, trying to keep a reasonable tone.

"Never…" Vega hissed.

"Don't make this hard on yourself. You're only asking for more trouble. I swear I'll kill you and take my punishment like a man if you don't get on your fucking knees." The guard said, starting to lose his cool.

Vega snarled to himself as he submitted. He had never willingly submitted to anyone. He put one knee on the floor and then the other. This pained him more than anything did. To know that he was going crawl before that pig like a common peasant. He owed Sagat nothing, not even his life, and the man expected him to crawl before him.

"Hands on the ground too. And remember, eyes down." The guard said persistently. Vega put his hands on the grubby floor, cursing Sagat under his breath. "You're not the first person to be subjected to this kind of treatment, so don't take it personal." It was too late; it was already personal. It had been personal since he first laid eyes on that foul man. It was far beyond personal now.

They led him down the familiar hallway. The larger of the two guards even had the audacity to pat his head as if he were a pet. He had killed men for much lesser offenses. He was taken into the room where his first beating had taken place. Did Sagat plan to do it again? His body ached at the memory. It hadn't even been 24 hours since the first one. It had barely been 12 hours.

Vega convinced himself that Sagat probably enjoyed watching him being held down and beaten. Sagat seemed like the type who might enjoy something so uncivilized, and Vega was sure he enjoyed it more because it was him being beaten.

There was no secret that neither man liked the other; their hatred for one another would've come to a head eventually. It was a deadly game between them. Who would dispose of who first? Sagat had only been fortunate enough to get to Vega before Vega could get to him. _He should consider himself very lucky, but his luck will run out. _Vega said to himself as he lifted his head slightly.

Once again, Ororo sat tamely at his feet. She was nothing more than a trophy for Sagat. She didn't look at him, and he thought she might be crying. He didn't look at Sagat; he didn't need to see him in order to know that the bastard was smiling smugly at him.

"I was informed that you killed one of my guards. Vega, it could get expensive having you around. You keep hurting the help. How am I supposed to find decent workers if you're going to injure or kill them all? Now, I wonder what we should do about that." Sagat said. "I think I'll just let them beat the respect out of you."

Once again, his clothing was ripped from him, more layers of his dignity being stripped away with the clothes. He thrashed against his captors' hands as the pulled him toward the pillars. "Beat him within an inch of his life, and make it good." Vega closed his eyes tightly, rapidly moving his lips in silent supplication. His prayers did nothing to numb the stings.

"No! Please, stop! He cannot take it." Ororo shouted. She stood from her seat before Sagat could catch her. She ran across the room, kneeing a man in the process. Another guard raised his hand, slapping her soundly across the face. She fell back from the impact.

"Fool!" Sagat yelled, crossing the room, hitting the man with a ferocious punch. "You are never to strike her. If I feel she ever needs to be disciplined, you will not be carrying out the punishment. That will be left to me."

Ororo took the opportunity to physically put herself between the wielder of the whip and Vega. "I won't let you continue with this. I will not move. If you strike him, you must strike me as well." She said, her tone resolute.

Sagat looked at her surprised before sighing in frustration. "You put your life on the line for someone who doesn't even respect life? You disgust me," Sagat said to her, eyeing her disdainfully.

Ororo held chin up daringly. "Why? Because I will not let you inflict any more pain upon Vega? Do you not see how weak he is? What kind of satisfaction can you gain from torturing an enervated man?"

Sagat said nothing as he turned, motioning for his men to follow him, and left the room. "You cannot protect me forever, Ororo. You've only won the battle; the war still rages. Eventually, Sagat will come for me, and nothing you say or do will stop him from trying to destroy me." Vega said once the door closed.

She picked up the tatters of his clothing, ripping them to fit his reopened wounds. "I can try to help you, Vega."

"Why? Why do you want to help _me_? Me, of all people! I'm sure you know that I'm not exactly hero material."

Ororo swallowed hard. "Yes, I am aware that you're considered a less than admirable person, but I help people. It is what I do. It's what I was put on this earth for. I could dwell on your past, but it wouldn't help us to escape this prison."

He couldn't argue with that theory. Whatever he had done in the past didn't matter now as they strived to survive.

"Did you really kill a man earlier?" She asked abruptly.

"Yes, I did."

"Why? What did this man do to you?"

Vega opened his mouth to tell her that the man mocked him and then struck him, but it seemed so trivial when he tried to find the words to tell her. He knew no matter what he said, she would chide him. "He was ill-mannered." Vega finally said decisively.

"You killed him because you didn't like his manners?" Ororo asked, incredulously. "Conflict is a part of life. Not everything can be as you command it. I live in a world where people hate me because I am a mutant. Sometimes, I feel like I'm stuck in a world not meant for me. People fear me, despise me, and many would like to kill me. Do you know how many people would be dead if I killed them because they were ill-mannered?"

"Those people are fools."

"But you are a fool as well, Vega. You regard beauty and your own well-being so much that you are unable to see the big picture. You kill without meaning, without mercy. By killing heedlessly, you steal what isn't yours, passing judgment on others when you are not entitled to do so. What gives you the right to judge them? You looks? Please, spare me that argument."

Vega clenched his jaw tightly. "Who gave _you_ the right to ordain yourself as the protector of mankind? If I have no right to pass judgment on others, what gives you the right to think you're their savior?"

"I am not their savior. I only wish to show them that mutants are not to be feared. There are evil mutants in the world, but there are evil people as well."

"You work so hard at being moral. It takes more dedication to be good than evil because no matter how good you are, evil finds its way into your heart. Haven't you ever wanted to throw aside all your morals, let your dark side take over, and unleash your powers?"

"I have," she admitted. "But I cannot. My emotions cannot rule me, especially hateful emotions. That would unleash something that even I can't control."

"Think about this, Ororo. Without evil, how would people know what is good? Without evil, there would be no good."

"Perhaps, but there has to be a natural balance. There cannot be too much evil." Ororo answered, her voice trailing as she pondered that thought.

Once again, a servant entered fearfully into the room with two armed guards, looking from Vega to Ororo. Apparently, Sagat hadn't forgotten they weren't shackled like animals. Vega was sure this was a mistake that would be quickly remedied. The servant stayed a few feet away from putting a basin on the floor along with clothes, a guard tossed ointment their way.

The servant stammered over her words as she informed them that they would be fed soon enough. More of that slop Sagat called food. Then, the servant quickly retreated.

"Sagat must like you a little," Ororo said, and he thought he heard a hint of teasing in her voice. "He cares enough about you to give you fresh clothing and ointment for your wounds."

"He doesn't care about me. He knows that death would be too merciful. He wants to torture and debase me as long as he can." Vega scowled as Ororo dutifully set about cleaning his wounds.

Once she finished, he looked at her inquisitively. Exhaustion painted her normally smooth face as she furrowed her eyebrows. If she slept, it was very little, but he feared she didn't sleep at all. _Feared_, he scoffed at the thought. Why should he care about this woman? She cared for him, foolishly, when she didn't really know him. She pleaded for him to be spared, put herself in harm's way for him, but for what? What did she hope to accomplish with such acts? Did she think that her virtuous quest would lead him to the light?

He found it hard to be angry with her though. No matter how much he wanted to be. He wanted to hate her, to loathe her. He wanted to feel that familiar murderous rage when he looked at her. He tried to will himself to want to kill her, but he didn't. He blamed it on their circumstances. As much as he hated to admit it, he did need an ally under those conditions.

She actually made him think about his position on life; he even felt foolish at times speaking to her about his convictions. She never outwardly said he was wrong for believing what he believed, and she never condemned him. She listened to him, and she didn't call him a raving lunatic others had (those of which he happily killed for crossing him).

If he didn't know better, he might've thought he did care for her somewhat, but He cared for no one else except himself. He especially didn't care for a do-gooder who under normal circumstances probably wouldn't have had a second thought about stopping him. She would have hated him had they met before this encounter, and he would have hated her as well.

He would have imagined her blood decorating his hands. He would've worn it proudly as any warrior does his spoils of battle. Funny how such a situation could cause one to think. Even now as he wrestled with the conflicting inner feelings, he found himself addressing her. "Why do you not sleep, Ororo? Are you not tired?"

She swallowed hard, turning her weary eyes toward him. "I am very tired, Vega." She answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then, why don't you rest?"

"Because I am afraid." She answered with an air of finality, and her honest answer took him by surprise. "I am afraid of what might happen if… if I close my eyes."

"Do not worry. I am here. Nothing will happen while I am here. I will not let Sagat or anyone else lay a hand on you." Ororo chuckled slightly as she scooted a little closer to him, dropping her head on his shoulder.

"You," she said and then paused. "You are the last person I would have entrusted with my life, but now, I ask myself if you're really the monster you say you are?"

He didn't know how to respond to that question, and it didn't matter because soon she was breathing evenly. Vega frowned; he tried to understand the almost tender feelings that rushed through him as her hair caressed his shoulder lightly. This couldn't be right; he didn't _feel_ like ordinary people. The only time he was supposed to feel anything was when he was killing. This was wrong – all wrong.

"Hey, are ya okay, kid?" Logan asked, when he saw Elena stirring.

She opened one blue eye slowly, looking around, and then opened the other. She continued to look around with a somewhat disoriented stare, and finally, her gaze rested on him. "I told you. I'm fine, Mr. Logan."

"That was a pretty nasty stab you took back there. Didn't even see it comin'."

"I'm okay. Honest! Were you worried about me? You really do care." She giggled. Logan shot her a withering glance, but she ignored it as she continued to talk. "I have this power that allows me to heal myself… and sometimes others, but I have to concentrate my power for it to work." Elena explained.

Logan shrugged casually. "You wouldn't be the first kid I've known with mutant abilities. In fact, I know a place you might fit right well in." Logan said, and then proceeded to tell her about the school. The kid studied him with rapt attention as he told her about the Professor's school and described life at the school. He felt like a goddamn recruiting officer.

"Wow…" She said once he finished, and he was surprised for that she hadn't kept blabbering on and on. "When you go back, will you take me with you?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"I can't just kidnap you and take you back with me. It ain't as easy as all that –" Elena cut him off, jumping from the spot she was sitting in and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Logan! You'll like having me around." She gushed in true Elena fashion, and then she started talking a mile a minute. There was just no getting away from this her mouth. And now she was trying to get him to cause an international incident for abducting an African princess Maybe, he would have been better off just keeping his mouth shut.

"How far did you say we were from this hellhole they're keepin' 'Ro at?" Logan asked, interrupting Elena's nonstop talking. One thing was for sure, he liked her a lot better when she was unconscious.

She thought about that for a second. "Shouldn't take more than two or three days on foot. That's if we aren't delayed," she answered.

_If they don't get delayed._ There were always delays; it was a perk of being part of the X-Men.

inspiration: "Not Meant For Me" performed by Wayne Static (of Static-X)

**Author's notes:** I don't own Christie, Bayman, or Leon (the man weeping beside the body). Tecmo/Team Ninja owns them. Why use him in this story? I like his blend of submission moves with Russian martial arts. I'm not sure how long this will be. I have a tentative outline of what I want to happen in this fic, but I could stray (as I have a habit of doing). I guess this bears repeating: Some characters will be somewhat OOC for the purposes of this fic. As I stated in the foreword, this is an alternate universe, and I am changing things to my liking. Besides, the part of invincible man is already filled in this fic. D I want to thank Domino for her help with this chapter.


	9. Run

**_Eight  
Run_**

The nightmares were becoming more and more frequent; it was getting to the point where he couldn't close his eyes without seeing some horrendous vision. No matter how much or how hard he tried to fight them, they still came, each dream more terrifying than the one before it. This time he dreamed of Sagat. Sagat laughed in his face, his sour breath seeming to melt away Vega's beautiful skin. "You'll never escape me. I _will_ destroy you." Sagat promised in his dreams. It was a promise that Sagat might very well keep if Vega didn't escape Sagat's clutches.

Vega woke with a start, finding his fingers tightly intertwined in the fine fibers of hair. Ororo let out a muffled protest as she woke to his sharp tugs. "Vega, will you please let go of my hair?" She asked. The timbre of her voice didn't elevate, but he could hear the fear creeping into it as she repeated her request. "Please, let my hair go."

For a moment, he entertained the thought of breaking her neck or better yet choking her. A smile slithered across his face. How easy it would be to snake his hands around her throat, digging his nails deeply into her skin, forcing the life from her. He inched his free hand toward her exposed throat. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He released her hair, and she moved away from him quickly, putting a fair amount of space between them.

He tried to open his mouth to explain, but he couldn't. She didn't understand the bloodlust running through his veins, the need to take life from others. He couldn't say the words she probably wanted to hear; he had never apologized for anything in his life. And he had no intention of ever doing so. He didn't regret his actions – ever.

If she still had any doubt in her mind about him being a monster, she should have her answer now. She didn't realize how close she'd come to losing her life. Then again, maybe, she did. He moved toward her slowly, and he saw that familiar defiant look creep into her face. She wasn't going to budge. Good, he didn't want her to. He didn't want to become part of that fear she dreaded.

"It won't happen again." The words rolled off his tongue with much difficulty. That was the closest thing she was going to get to an apology, and even that seemed too much. He was unaccustomed to being penitent for his actions, but he felt that something needed to be said. She nodded and her shoulders relaxed.

She seemed satisfied with his laughable excuse for an apology (or rather the lack of an apology). "Old habits die hard. I know that you are still dealing with the demons that engulf you. One day, I hope you are able to overcome them. How are your wounds?" She asked, motioning toward his back, quickly changing the subject.

"They don't bother me anymore," he answered, and they didn't. They throbbed most of the night, reminding him that Sagat was the one with the power. He'd woken from his fitful dreams during the night because of the pain, but now, he felt nothing but his hatred. His hatred fed off the pain, numbing him, assuring him that he would have his revenge. "Ororo, have you ever despised anyone to the point that all you could think of was vengeance?"

Ororo looked sad for a moment. She closed her eyes as if she were remembering some event and said, "I know the feeling all too well, I'm afraid."

"Then, surely, you can understand the rage I feel against Sagat." He gritted his teeth furiously as he ran his finger over one of the welts on his arm.

"I do understand, more than you'll ever know, but you must not let it consume you. Your anger will only destroy you in the end, and Sagat will still have won." Ororo replied. Vega stood and started pacing the floor, deliberating with himself.

"How do you control it? How can you remain so calm? I'm going mad being held here. Nightmares riddle my dreams. I can barely sleep, and the only relief I have is thinking about is what I'm going to do to Sagat once I am free." He stopped pacing and dropped to his knees, resting his forehead against his palm, burying his fingers in his hair. "It's the only thing I have to keep me sane, but you couldn't possibly understand that. _You_, with all your infuriating calmness."

"Keep it together, Vega." Ororo said firmly, the leader in her speaking. She walked toward him, kneeling beside him. She put a strong hand on his shoulder. "I can understand your anger for being brought here against your will and tortured, but I would be lying if I said I understood your other reasons."

"Of course you don't," he answered, shrugging her hand off his shoulder. "I don't expect you to." Ororo opened her mouth to respond, but instead shook her head sadly, moving away from him.

"I loved him once." Ororo said quietly. "I loved Sagat once."

"Why are you telling me this?" Vega asked through clenched teeth. He didn't want to hear about a former affair between Ororo and Sagat. The thought of them together didn't settle well inside him, and it didn't help that his anger toward Sagat was growing as the seconds ticked by.

"You asked what connection Sagat and I had, and now, I'm telling you." She said in the same low, controlled tone. "I left him when I realized that he didn't really…" She trailed off and he didn't push her to go any further.

Vega couldn't help but smile at the thought of Sagat being scorned by Ororo, but it still didn't explain why Sagat was willing to go through such trouble for a woman. He wanted to ask her why Sagat was so intent on having her, but he didn't want to seem overly curious.

"No, I didn't really love him. I loved the way he made me feel." She continued with fondness in her voice.

"Isn't that all love is anyway? A response to a good feeling? That's all it seems to be." Vega challenged.

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "You are quite the enigma, Vega. I find myself wondering what has happened to you in your life." She said.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to hate everything except yourself and violence. You seem to hold nothing sacred except your beauty and bloodlust, yet I still believe that there is more to you than that."

"Then, you _believe_ wrong."

"Why have you not killed me by now?" She questioned. Her voice was still calm, but she seemed to be challenging him. "You've had plenty of opportunities to end my life. If you disregard life, love, and everything else as you say you do, why have you allowed me to live?"

"Because I have a better chance of getting out of here with you alive." He answered quickly without thinking, except that explanation didn't sound exactly right. Ororo only looked at him, her eyes reflecting a knowing light. He turned away from her. She didn't know anything, or maybe, he didn't know anything.

He had been acting strangely since he and Ororo had been forced into each other's life – mainly he was having those feelings he associated with like. Yes, that was it. He thought he _might like_ Ororo as a person. She was easy to talk to, and she actually listened to him. Most people were quick to dismiss him and his logic, but she questioned him. She wanted to know what made him tick. He actually somewhat enjoyed her company. He couldn't believe that he just admitted that to himself.

He turned back toward her, studying her. She was wise beyond her years, and he hated to admit it, but she fascinated him just a little. "Tell me about your life outside of here." He said, and she smiled broadly, as she began to recount tales of her life.

He actually felt a twinge of jealousy as she spoke fondly of all the people in her life. Xavier, Remy, Rogue, Logan, Jean, Scott, Bobby, Kitty, Kurt, Piotr – the list of people she mentioned never seemed to end, and he could tell she cared for each and every one.

He'd never had the kind of life she described. He'd been privileged, but still so much had been missing. She described everything and everyone in her life with exuberance. After a while, he wasn't even sure if she was talking to him anymore; she seemed to be lost in her own world as she spoke about her nightly combat lessons with Logan or her idle chats with Jean. She even spoke kindly of an ex-fiancée when most people would've been bitter after the kind of breakup she described.

Was there really that much room in one person's heart? Before being captured, he would've been skeptical. Now, he wasn't so sure what to believe anymore. He silently berated himself. He was becoming soft. He couldn't allow that to happen. He didn't want the life Ororo spoke of. He only wanted to be beautiful and kill. There was room for nothing else.

Sagat's mouth pulled into a tight, thin line as this man who stood before him told him about the encounter in the jungle. Sagat's eyes trailed to Birdie gravely who nodded after everything this brute told him. If this man was telling the truth, one of Ororo's friends was coming for her. Furthermore, if was one was coming, that meant more would soon follow. Those people never gave up, did they?

He'd defeated them once, but he wasn't so sure that he would be lucky in a second battle. Now Birdie and this man, Victor Creed, were telling him that the man with the healing abilities and the indestructible claws was coming for him. He'd seen that man in action once, and he went on quite the rampage trying to help Ororo.

"Why didn't you kill him when you had a chance?" Sagat asked through clenched teeth. Did he have to spell everything out for them? He was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was the only person in the world with an ounce of sense left.

"We didn't think Bison would be too pleased if we brought him damaged goods." Birdie said calmly, not flinching when Sagat turned to glare at him.

Bison. Everything was about Bison. The bastard who wanted to rule the world, but hid where others couldn't find him. Bison was a coward, and one day, Sagat would capitalize on that weakness. But not today. No matter how cowardly he thought Bison was, he was still a force to reckon with. Sagat forced a smile on his face.

"Right you are. We wouldn't want Bison to angry now, would we?" Sagat answered.

Sagat didn't trust Birdie. He believed Birdie was trying to weasel himself into his territory through Bison. He could tell from the way Birdie glared at him that he didn't too much care for him. Sagat wouldn't be surprised if in a year's time he ended up captured like Vega. He could only hope that he was able to overthrow Bison before that happened.

"Besides," Birdie added with a harsh grin, "this is your fight not ours. Who would be stupid enough to kidnap someone and then bring them back to this obvious piss pot? Who doesn't know this is where you are?"

Birdie shifted his eyes toward Sagat who curled his lip at the man's comment. He knew Birdie was trying to get a rise out of him. He would enjoy breaking that man's neck, but now was not the time.

"That's an awful lotta trouble to be goin' through, just for a woman, anyway. Don't ya know those X-Jerks always come after their own? Why'd ya kidnap the witch in the first place?" Creed asked. His voice seemed to hold a hint of laughter, and if there was one thing that Sagat didn't like, it was being mocked.

"I believe that is none of your business. You are not paid to worry about my affairs. You shouldn't concern your small brain with things beyond your mental capacities." Sagat said with a hint of malice, turning his eye toward the man. He heard the man growl low in his throat.

"What are you going to do about the intruders? They're traveling on foot, but they'll be here sooner than you think." Birdie said, trying to ease the mounting tension in the room. He didn't know whether to regard Sagat as stupid or brave. From what Birdie had seen, Victor Creed was a rapacious killer. Sagat thought he was the best fighter alive, but Birdie wasn't sure how he would fare against someone like Creed.

"They?" Sagat asked, snapping his head back toward Birdie.

"Seems Logan is flitterin' around the jungle with this girl. She nearly kicked Birdie's ass till he brought out the reinforcement. Stuck the little bitch good in the side. If she's still alive, she ain't happy." Creed answered smirking. "So, what are you gonna do about them? I don't think those shit for brains guards you got 'round here gonna be able to handle the runt, much less the runt _and_ the girl."

"No, no… you need to get whatever it is you have to Bison, and I need to get the woman away from here before her friend arrives." Sagat said, stroking his chin. It wouldn't be a bad idea to leave the city for a while.

"You ain't gonna run from the runt are ya?" Creed asked almost incredulously. The thought of anyone running from that little bastard baffled him.

"No, I just think it's time for a change in scenery, Creed." Sagat said acidly.

Creed didn't seem too convinced by his answer, but Sagat didn't care. He didn't give a damn if Creed thought he was the biggest pussy on the face of the planet. That's what separated Sagat from the fools. He was smart enough to choose his battles wisely. And right now, his instincts were telling him to get away – and fast.

They were going somewhere; she didn't know where. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know where they were being taken, either. She knew that it wasn't the way to freedom. Therefore, it didn't matter where they were being taken. She shook head slightly. Actually, it _did_ matter where they were taking them.

They could be meeting certain death, and while she had told herself many times she'd rather face death than join Sagat, a fear gripped her heart in its icy grip when she thought about dying. She wasn't quite sure what to make of this all. She was already supposed to be dead if you let Sagat tell the story. When she had first refused to join him, he promised her death, yet she still hadn't met this certain death.

She never thought of Sagat as the bluffing kind, so there must be some ulterior reason why he was keeping her and Vega alive. Perhaps, he was enjoyed torturing them – although she hadn't been hurt physically as Vega had. However, mentally, she was suffering. She was a child of the earth. The warm breezes called to her, the sunshine beckoned her. She needed to feel the winds whip around her as she willed the thunderheads to yield to her calls. She needed to one with nature; she needed to feel the rush of power through her veins.

She needed to be _free_.

A guard pulled her restraints roughly, forcing her to speed up. She didn't protest as she quickened her pace. Instead, she raised her head higher in silent defiance. Another guard was carrying Vega's limp body, and yet another guard was holding his nose and whining in the most ridiculous manner. She wanted to tell him to be quiet. If he had never spat on Vega, he wouldn't be nursing a broken nose.

Earlier, she and Vega had been talking in the room Sagat had confined them too. Really, she was the one doing the talking. Vega had been listening, or at least, she thought he was listening. He had this glazed look in his eyes as if he were thinking about something important. She watched his expression turn from a thoughtful gaze to a derisive sneer. She couldn't help wondering what went on in his mind, and she almost asked him, but Sagat's men had barged into the room.

One of them mentioned something about taking a little trip, and Vega said something that one of them took as impertinence. Well, Vega was being disrespectful, but that did not give that man the right to spit in Vega's face. She watched horrified as the spittle slid down the side of Vega's face, and the room had become deathly quiet – save for the smug chuckles of the man who spat on Vega. She knew enough about Vega to know that his face was something he valued like most people valued gold.

Vega wiped the spit from his face slowly. He sat there for a second with a somewhat conflicted look on his face. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists. He took in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring in rage. He uttered something in his native tongue, as his eyes narrowed. Ororo took in a deep breath waiting for the explosion, but was rendered speechless when his jaw slackened and he relaxed his fists. His whole body relaxed, and she took that to mean that he was going to turn the other cheek.

Ororo was sure that he wasn't going to retaliate; she thought wrong.

With an explosive rage, he let out a piercing scream that filled the small space they occupied. Before anyone could react, Vega had smashed the guard in the nose, sending him sprawling backwards. Then, he jumped on the man and wrapped his hands around the guard's throat, forcing the life from him. Gurgling noises rose from the guard's throat as he gasped for air. One of the larger guards pried Vega off the man, and using sheer brute force, he slammed Vega into a wall.

Vega's head connected with the wall, and Ororo saw him slump. The man wordlessly checked Vega's pulse. "He ain't dead," he said simply. Then, he picked up Vega's limp body and stalked out of the room. The other guard secured shackles on her hands and feet. Then, he checked on his fallen comrade. After the man recovered enough to walk on his own, the guard led Ororo out of the room.

Now, they were on their way to some unknown destination, and she couldn't help but wonder what brought about this sudden trip – if they were even taking a trip at all. Sagat could be planning to have them executed. She swallowed a nervous lump that formed in her throat. They stopped in the hallway for a second, and she heard a familiar voice coming from a room not too far from where she was standing. She furrowed her eyebrows and inched her way toward the door.

She peeked into the cracked door cautiously, and she let out an inaudible gasp when she saw Victor Creed. Of course, he heard her little gasp. He looked at her, smiled, and threw her a wink. It shouldn't surprise her that he was working for Sagat. It just seemed so illogical he would be in Thailand. Then again, nothing much made sense anymore.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of an arm wrapping around her neck, cutting of her air supply. She fought vainly against her captor to no avail. A cloth was put over her nose and mouth. A sweet sensation filled her lungs, and she could feel her eyes closing heavily. Then, everything went dim.

Author's notes: Well, since you begged ShanniC… ;) Just kidding. Sorry, I haven't been updating as promised. I've been going through a bit of writer's block with this story – particularly this chapter. I have an extreme disliking for writing chapter 8s in any story. The next chapter will be better. Promise.


	10. Chase

**_Nine  
Chase_**

When she woke, she found herself on a back of a covered truck. Vega was still out cold, and she seemed to vaguely remember waking to him causing another commotion before that sweet feeling entered her lungs again. She didn't know if that had been a dream or not. The sky was still somewhat dim and overcast with fat clouds that threatened to open up at any moment, early morning.

She shivered a little against the cool air. Funny, she hadn't felt the physical effects of the weather on her body since she lost her powers for that brief moment in time. Her connection to weather went beyond the physical. She felt the weather changes, just like any other person, but her body adjusted to the weather, rather than fighting against it. She shivered again. Her heart quickened. Had she lost her powers again? Had the collar finally sapped her of everything she held sacred?

Across from her she saw Victor Creed sitting as still as a statue, his eerie eyes narrowing in her direction, and she shifted just a little further away from him. You never could tell what was on his mind, and if there was ever anyone that Ororo though had more of a violent streak than Vega, it was Sabretooth. Vega stirred at her side, finally coming to, and she ripped her eyes away from Creed to inspect the chains that bound her hands and feet.

One of the greatest thieves in the world had trained her—and trained her well—in the art of thievery and finding ways to escape when there seemed to be none. Yet, she still found herself in dire situations, such as these. She could have easily picked the locks on the chains a long time ago, if she had her lock picks. But what would she have done then?

She could have possibly gotten around all the soldiers at the fortress, but not likely without her powers. She would've only ended back up in the same situation she started in or maybe dead if Sagat truly tired of her. Maybe, she would've had a better chance of escape in a situation such as this. Victor rode in the truck ahead of them. Aside from Creed and the driver, there was only one other man in their truck.

Maybe, she could created some kind of diversion and bolted through the thick foliage of the surrounding jungles. Then again, it would be stupid to run around in unknown territory. She did not know these lands well. Even if she did try to run through the jungle, Creed still had the ability to track her. A million different case scenarios ran through her mind, and she struck each of them down as impossible, irrational, or just plain stupid. Captivity sure did bring out her negative side.

Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she felt searching fingers find her own. She tried to look Vega in the eyes, but he turned his face from hers, veiling his thoughts from her. Whether it was for her comfort or his own didn't matter. It was such a humane action coming from him, but then, she'd seen sides of him that she didn't think he had. He _was_ capable of caring for something other than himself, whether he wanted to accept it or not.

He hadn't meant to do it—grab her hand. But when the realization really set in, it was his first reaction, cling to the nearest safe thing. Sagat was taking them to Bison, and nothing good could come of that. He envied her ignorance of the situation. She hadn't had the displeasure of meeting Bison before, but after she met him, she'd never be able to forget him.

Just because he worked—or rather, had worked—for him didn't mean that he idolized the man. He respected Bison, had been willing to do whatever he wanted, but that was more for his own safety than true admiration. Truth was, he was a little scared of Bison, though he would never admit that aloud. You never knew what Bison might do. His moods were capricious, causing him to be as unpredictable as a storm.

It didn't matter how much you tried to stay out of his way. You could never avoid being subjected to some sadistic whim he had. They called Vega twisted, but his own sickness paled when it came to Bison. Who knew what Bison would do to them? He might disregard them, look over them as if they blended in with the background, or he might decide to make their stay miserable. When he really thought about it, it didn't actually seem so unbelievable that Bison betrayed him.

Across from them, Creed snorted their way with a roll of his eyes. Vega curled his lip up at him, eyeing him with apparent distaste. _Disgusting beast_, Vega said to himself. "Got somethin' ya wanna say, angel face?" Creed said mockingly. Vega held his tongue, not wanting to try his luck. Creed was three times his size, seeming to take up the little space they occupied.

He might've been impetuous, but he wasn't stupid. There was no way he could defend himself from that man—no, that animal—in the back of the truck, especially not bound as he was. So, he only stared at him with revulsion while his hatred smoldered. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone more vile than this man, except maybe Blanka. Creed stared back at him, his dark, depthless eyes betraying nothing but malice.

"You gotta a goddamn problem?" Creed said, provoking Vega. He'd heard that Vega had a nasty little temper, one that didn't take much to incite, and he was always looking for a good fight.

Vega clenched his teeth tightly together and tried to ignore the man in front of him, but he just kept goading him, making it harder and harder for him to keep his cool. He glanced at Ororo, who was eyeing Creed with cool disdain, as if she wanted to just kick him in the face one good time. He had seen her express contempt for their captors, for their situation, but he hadn't seen her express much malevolence toward anyone until now.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to ya," Creed continued, kicking Vega's leg, roughly, as if he were some kind of animal. _Disgusting, uncouth, miserable swine_, Vega thought to himself. He was ready to lash out, stupid decision or not. He would not tolerate this creature speaking to him in such an ill manner.

"Why don't you leave him alone?" Ororo said, before Vega could say a word. Creed turned his sights on her, smirking.

"Why don't _you_ get fucked, you cold bitch?" he shot back at her. She breathed in sharply at his words, clenching her fingers tightly. Vega could see her face darkening in her anger, as he watched the exchange between them. Apparently, they knew each other well. Creed leaned in closer to Ororo, stroking the side of her face with one clawed finger. "Wanna fry my ass, don'tcha? But ain't nothin' you can do t'me without yer powers."

"Do not touch me," she hissed at him, jerking away from him violently. There was nothing that made Creed's day brighter than pissing off one of the X-Jokes. It was already starting to look like a good day.

"Like you gotta choice in the matter," he said with a cruel laugh. And Vega heard something in it that sounded familiar, something maniacal that reminded him of… himself. No, he didn't want to see himself in this monster. He was nothing like that foul beast.

"She said she does not wish to be touched." Vega said in a low, controlled voice.

"An' what do ya plan to do about it, angel face?" Creed said, using his free hand to grip Vega's throat. Vega's chained hands went to Creed's hand, but he couldn't pry the man's hand from his throat. His grip was strong, firm. Vega could feel the claws sinking into his flesh, and in his mind, he could see the pearls of blood welling around Creed's fingertips, just the way they'd welled around his fingers many times before. "I could rip yer throat out before ya could blink."

"Please, Victor, do not hurt him." Ororo said in a cajoling voice.

"Yo, Creed," a man called from the front of the truck. "Give it a break, will ya? Wait 'til after we get paid to have your fun. Then, I don't give a shit who you kill." Creed let Vega go unceremoniously, jumping at him, before taking his place. Vega brought his hand hands to neck and felt the finger shaped depressions left in his neck from Creed's hand, a faint trace of blood stained his fingers. When he looked at it, he felt nothing.

———

Logan and Elena arrived at Sagat's village. Elena inquired about Ororo around the village. She said people would be willing to talk to her because she was less intimidating than he was. He thought a little intimidation might get them more answers. He thought they could use his brand of intimidation, the tight-lipped assholes. It was just like the first time he came here with the X-Men. He couldn't wait to Ororo and get back to the mansion.

No one knew anything, or at least, they pretended to know nothing. Logan knew better. When they asked about Sagat, their eyes would shadow over with darkness. Their answers became monosyllabic snaps from their lips. They would quickly find an excuse, something they needed to do, before they walked away from Logan, quickly. They were afraid of that bastard. There were worse things to be afraid of, and he was one of them.

Logan was tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy, and he was three seconds away from gutting the man in front of him. He was hot, tired, and feeling very cranky. Taking his frustrations out on someone—anyone—was just the answer he needed to solve his problems. The next person who played blind, dumb, and stupid was a likely candidate.

Fortunately for someone, they met a girl who said she worked in Sagat's fortress. She'd seen the white-haired woman. The girl explained as much as she could to Logan and Elena. She told them that she had spoken with Ororo briefly, asking her if she was a witch as the rumors claimed she was. The girl didn't know where Ororo was now, but she was sure that guards knew something.

She said she would get them into them into Sagat's fortress, but that was the most she could do for them. The fortress was her only home, and even sneaking them inside was already too much. Once inside, they cornered one of the guards as he was rounding a corner. Logan slammed him so hard into the wall that Elena thought he'd killed the man.

At first, the guard was stunned into silence, looking at Logan with wide-eyes. Logan set his mouth in a determined line. If this man didn't talk, he'd might as well get ready to meet his maker. Elena walked along the corridors peering around the corners, acting as a look out. Maybe, she was half-good for something.

"What are you—" the guard started speaking.

Logan grabbed the man by his collar and slammed him against the wall again. The guard's head connected with the wall, eliciting a groan from him, and Elena winced in response, walking quickly past the two to the other end of the hallway. At the rate he was going, the man would be dead before he could get him to say anything.

Logan put a forearm across the man's throat, cutting off his air supply. The man struggled futilely, and before the man could lose consciousness, Logan loosened the forearm grip on him just a bit. The man coughed when the sudden rush of air entered his lungs. "I'm lookin' for a lady. She's got white-hair, brown skin, and blue eyes."

He knew who Logan was talking about, the weather witch that Sagat so coveted. The man's eyes flickered to Elena as she walked by again. "She's right behind you," the man said.

Logan tightened his arm against the man's windpipe again, watching emotionlessly as he gasped for the air that wouldn't come. Tears from lack of oxygen filled the man's eyes. "Don't be a smart ass. I'll ask ya again. Where's the lady?" He loosened his grip again, and the man pulled in a deep, gulping breath.

"I don't know," the man said quietly.

_Snikt_. Logan unsheathed his claws and the man gave a low yelp of surprise, trembling a little. He hadn't signed up for this job to be slapped around by freaks. "Who do I gotta kill around here to get answers?" Logan asked.

"Please, they are no longer here," the man cried, staring only at the blades that had emerged from Logan's hand.

"Where did they go?" Logan growled at the man.

The man swallowed hard. "I don't know," he whispered, his eyes still glued to Logan's hand.

Logan positioned the claws at the side of the man's face, letting the graze the man's skin. "Maybe, I can help ya remember," he said. The guard remained silent for a moment. He had two seconds before Logan did something he wouldn't regret.

"He took them to Bison. He's somewhere in Shadowloo, but you won't find anyone to take you there now. Nightfall, the villagers are superstitious as hell. You'd never make it without a guide, anyway. It's too dangerous," the man said quickly. God, if anyone heard him, he'd be shot for treason. But he'd rather be shot that mutilated by the man standing before him. But maybe if he found a way to warn Sagat…

Logan released the man, and he immediately went cowering into a corner. It looked as if they were stuck in that shithole until the morning. He would contact the X-Men and let them know where he was.

———

Nightfall. They stopped and set up camp in the first available clearing when the terrain became rough. No one wanted to brave the treacherous dips and dives the cliffs had to offer. The headlights barely cut the darkness of the area. Concealed by darkness, many people had accidentally driven over a cliff and lost their lives to a rocky death.

Campfires crackled lightly, and the men laughed together while roasting their food. She settled against a tree that Creed had roughly pushed her toward after he dragged her from the truck, but she was glad to at least be outside that stifling truck. It wasn't quite the freedom she had in mind, but she savored the feel of being one with nature for a short while, anyway.

As usual, two of the guards were forcibly pulling Vega along. He never learned, and neither did they. Didn't he know things would be a lot easier on him if he just learned to stop fighting them so much? She wasn't saying that he had to give up the fight, but he had to learn to strike when the time was right. She was biding her time because she knew it would come.

Vega managed to jerk his arm away from one of the guards. His head snapped backward catching the other guard in the face. The man let him go, holding his face and yowling. The guard he jerked away from made a desperate grab for his arm, but was rewarded with stiff shoulder to the chest. Instead of continuing with his show, he stopped. He looked quite pleased with himself. Sometimes, Ororo believed his moments of rebellion were more about the attention than the actual act.

He allowed the guard to lead him where Ororo was. "Sit the fuck down," the man said pushing Vega. Vega lost his balanced and fell backward, his back scraping down the rough bark of the three. Ororo winced just thinking about how painful it had to be, especially with his recent wounds, but Vega didn't make a sound. "I don't get paid enough to do this job," the man muttered before walking away. Vega yelled after the man in Spanish.

"Why give them the satisfaction of a fight you know you cannot win?" she asked him.

Angry, blue eyes turned her way. "To let them know that they have not taken it from me. No matter what they do to me I will always fight them," he replied.

She only nodded solemnly in response. She didn't want to exchange philosophies with him right now. She just wanted to enjoy being out, listening to the sounds of the earth, smelling nature in all its essence. The rainy weather had made the Thai foliage lush and vibrant, and she could smell exotic plants and flowers all around her. Ever so often, she would hear the soft sounds of something moving in the underbrush. It was perfect.

Without thought, she sighed and laid her head on Vega's shoulder, and in response, he moved closer to her.

———

Elena complained that she was hungry, so they stopped in a nearby restaurant. Restaurant was putting it nicely for that place. It was little more than a shack with windows. But the food was okay, and they actually served beer. Granted, it was so weak that it was almost like drinking water, but hell, it was beer. And that was good enough for Logan.

He'd actually flirted with the idea of trying to find Shadowloo that night, anyway. But what if that wasn't where they really went? The guard could've just been trying to give his boss a little more time to get where he was going. The guard could've lied to him, even with the threat of metal claws going through his neck, but he doubted it.

He wasn't familiar with the land in that area, anyway. It was mountainous, dangerous. What good would he be to Ro if he fell off a cliff and had to wait to heal? That would sort of defeat the purpose of trying to beat time. His best bet was to play it safe. He didn't like when things turned on him like this.

"So spill, what do ya know about this Shadowloo, princess?" Logan asked Elena. She seemed to know everything about everybody, and she loved sharing her expanse knowledge on everything.

Elena sighed, but she didn't correct him about her name. It wouldn't matter anyway. "Not much," she said with a shrug.

"What's 'not much'?" he asked.

"Well, I don't think the town itself is actually called Shadowloo. It's actually the name of an organization run by a warlord named Bison, but since he pretty much runs the whole place…" She trailed with another shrug, picking at her food.

"How in the hell do you know that?" Logan asked. Where do you go to in a place like this to learn about warlords? These people were so tight-lipped about everything. He bet if he asked what day it was that they would clam up on him.

"People talk and I listen," she said simply.

"Yeah right," he snorted. Like she could really shut up long enough to listen to anybody. She didn't even listen to him when he told her to shut up.

"Compared to Bison, Sagat is just small time. When you talk about your megalomaniacs of the world, Bison should be in the top ten, at least. This guy is really twisted." Elena said. "With him, it's all about trying to conquer the world, amassing more power, the usual stuff that crazies like him want."

"Great, just great," Logan grumbled. _Well, this was going to be interesting_, he said to himself.

———

Ororo was more relaxed than he'd seen her since they'd been captured. When he asked her why, she tried to explain the connection she had with nature. She was grateful to be outdoors, even if it wasn't going to last. While she talked about nature, he contemplated Ororo and her kindness. She cried for him. She pleaded for his life. She cared for him. She didn't have to do any of those things for him.

He didn't understand any of it. He never had anyone who really "cared" in life his life. She made him feel like he was close to her, as if he could tell her anything. She wasn't supposed to be someone he felt he could count on. She was supposed to despise him. Instead of crying for him, she should've laughed at because didn't he deserve it?

And where was his hatred for her? Shouldn't he despise her and all her ethical values? But no, he found himself actually listening to her, even when he argued with her. There had been moments when he thought he could've hurt her, but they were few and far between. The thought of stealing her life didn't appeal to him, which made no sense to him. Sometimes, all he fantasized about was the kill—how it would happen, the emotions he would feel, if the victim would fight him or not—but not with her.

He knew he might like her as a person, but it wasn't just that. He didn't know what it was because he'd never felt that way before. What he did know was that he didn't like it. It felt vile to him, an emotion he should never have about anyone, least of all her. He felt protective of her as if he was the one who had to get her out that, even though he hadn't been the one who got her into that predicament.

No, he would not allow this to happen. When they escaped, they would go their separate ways and he would forget. He was only responding to her acts of kindness because they were all he had, right now. Captivity had made him weak, vulnerable, and these feelings would all disperse once this experience was over. He was sure of it.

Vega's thoughts were interrupted by the two guards nearest to them. "You think he's hungry?" one of them said, looking over at Vega. Vega could already feel himself bristling in response.

"Don't care," the other one said.

The guard who posed the question stood from his seat. He walked toward Vega, but maintained a safe distance away from him. He swung his plate in Vega's face. "Want some?" the man asked. Vega's stomach twisted in a tight knot. He'd been ignoring the pangs in his stomach, but they intensified now as the guard taunted him relentlessly with food.

When Vega didn't react to the guard's taunts, he took his seat back by the fire. He threw scraps Vega way, and Vega seethed. "If he's really hungry, he'll eat from the ground like a dog," the guard said. The other guard laughed, adding his scraps to the pile.

"You will pay." Vega threatened through clenched teeth. They couldn't treat him like this. Then, he closed his eyes and sighed to himself. Yes, they could. He was the one who was chained down like a filthy criminal, not them.

"You hear that? He's going to make us pay." One of the guards said, and they laughed heartily.

"Ignore them. They are not worth your anger." Ororo said at his side. So she said. She had enough calmness for the both of them. He only grunted at her advice.

They all quieted as a shadow extinguished the light of the fire. Sagat loomed over Ororo and Vega. Neither of them could help staring up at him. He barely regarded Vega, as he looked down at Ororo. He extended an "invitation" to Ororo to eat with him, and she had the distinct impression that he was trying to be charming. He was about as charming as a rattlesnake. Didn't he ever give up?

Her stomach did growl favorably at the prospect of food, but she would not watch Vega starve while Sagat tried to win her affections through such methods of enticement. "I will not eat unless you feed Vega, as well." Ororo said, looking Sagat in the eye.

"He already has a marvelous feast laid before him." Sagat said with a vicious laugh, waving his hands at the scraps that had been thrown at Vega.

"Then, that is what I will eat, as well," she said stubbornly. She didn't really intend to eat the scraps, just as she knew Vega would never touch it, but she would rather starve with him than be Sagat's pawn.

He didn't speak, but she knew Sagat was furious with her. His fury burned her skin like a flame. She had done nothing but defy him at every turn. She would continue to do so. Maybe what Vega said earlier about letting them know they couldn't take the fight from him actually made more sense than she gave him credit for.

"Get her out of my sight. Get both of them out of my sight," he growled.

They were taken back to the covered truck, left to think about their actions like a scolded child. Ororo hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head against her kneecaps, while Vega studied her intently.

"Why do you do these things for me?" Vega asked, his voice holding a hint of desperation in it. He wanted to know why. He knew she felt it was her job to protect him as much as she could. But why? No matter what he did to her, said to her, she stayed constant. He hadn't had too many constants in his life. He thought it was stupid how she went up against Sagat for his welfare when he wouldn't have done the same for her.

"Because we are in this together," she said with a half-smile, looking up at him. "Is that not the gist of what you were saying when you told me you had a better chance of getting out if I were alive?"

God, he couldn't wait until they were free. The first person he would make pay would be Sagat. He reminded himself of that constantly. Then, he'd go after each and everyone of his little toy soldiers until they all died a horrible, bloody death at his hands. He told Ororo as much, and as he expected, she shook her head at him like a disapproving master.

"The bitterness inside of you is growing like a seed, Vega. You have to let it go before it chokes you completely." She said. She understood his need to get his revenge, but in the end, he would never really be satisfied. She had already related as much to him a previous conversation, but he was determined. "It will do nothing but turn your soul black."

"My soul is already dark."

"I don't believe that." Not completely she didn't. She wouldn't argue that he did some things that were truly disturbing, but she believed there was a part of him that wanted to be decent.

She didn't know how infuriating she was when she told him that she didn't believe he was this or he was this. What did she really know about him? Nothing at all. She didn't understand at all. She wasn't the one who was made to crawl. She was not the one who had pieces of her pride stripped from her everyday. Sagat only wanted to get her into his bed, but he wanted Vega to suffer to his last breath.

"I know because you do not understand." They'd already established that. She didn't understand any of his dark machinations.

"So, make me understand," she said. She wanted to hear every dark, dirty detail. She wanted to know what made him tick, what made him value such things as pain, beauty, blood, hate above everything moral. Maybe, once she heard everything he had to say, she would be able to help him better, to make him understand her side of things.

"Hate is like healing for my broken soul," and that's how he started his story.

He started from the very beginning with his parents, a mother who only valued beautiful things and a father who despised him. His obsession with death and dying started when he saw his father strangle his mother. The bloodlust didn't come until much later. He told Ororo about his very first kill. It involved a classmate that he strangled just because he wanted to know how his father felt while he wrenched the life from his mother.

He saw Ororo's horrified expression and partly delighted in it, but another part of him felt a little ashamed. No, not possible. _No regrets_, he reminded himself silently. She didn't interrupt him, and he continued his story, weaving a dark tale revolving around his vanity, his awakening bloodlust, his love of inflicting—and occasionally receiving—pain.

"I am out of control. They think I'm too far lost in my own world to know that, but I am not. It's like I need to lose control in order to feel whole," he ended. He had his back pressed hard against the side of the covered truck. He was jerking the chains that bound his hands, rubbing the skin around his wrists raw. He wasn't looking at her, but down at nothing in particular.

She scooted closer to him and touched the side of his face gently, lifting his face toward hers. He didn't recoil from her touch, and he didn't see any revulsion in her blue eyes, as he expected. He covered her hand with his own, and there was that odd feeling again that he sometimes got from her. They found their faces only inches from each. Drawing together like opposite poles of a magnet, they nuzzled their faces together.

He couldn't remember a time when he was this close to a person he hadn't intended to harm, but she was so warm and inviting. Is this what things would be like if he were normal? He couldn't hold her; the chains wouldn't allow it, but he kissed her, lightly. And she didn't stop him, even as the kiss deepened, became more demanding. Her fingers trailed languidly from his jaw to his neck, her lips following the same path. She kissed the purplish finger shaped bruises that marked his neck, flickering a tongue over the bruises, nurturing them with her own brand of soothing.

Then, he jerked away from her suddenly, slapping her hard across the face.

———

Outside, Creed furrowed his eyebrows, taking a sniff of the air. Creed leaned against a nearby tree, chuckling to himself. Oh, this shit was just too good like one big fucking soap opera with real violence. Sagat approached him, and he groaned to himself. At least, he'd get to deliver the news to Sagat personally.

"Where is Ororo?" Sagat asked.

Creed looked at Sagat as if he'd just lost his fucking mind. What was the point of wanting someone out of your sight if you were just going to go looking for them five seconds later? Creed didn't know what the bitch had done to him, but it must've been damn good for him to sniff around her like he did. Well, what-the fuck-ever.

"Probably behind a tree ass-fuckin' that fag you insist on keepin' around." Creed said with a shrug, still chuckling. Sagat gave him a withering frown. Damn, couldn't he take a joke? Losing an eye must've made everything not funny. "They're in the back of the truck."

"What is so funny, Creed?" Sagat asked annoyed. He was really getting tired of the Creed altogether. He just had to tolerate him a few more hours before they got to their destination.

"Nothin', besides the fact that that Spanish bastard is gettin' yer girlfriend wet. The air's full of her smell." Creed said, laughing harder when he saw the mortified look on Sagat's face.

"You lie."

"I do, but my nose never does." He loved getting a reaction out of people, and the way Sagat's mouth was working like a dying fish made him laugh even more. "I bet, if ya were to unchain them, they'd be more interested in fuckin' than gettin' away from ya."

"Creed, must you—"

"But those chains ain't tight enough t'keep him from puttin' his hands down her pants an' vice versa. An' if they're really smart, they already know they ain't gotta do much to get each other's pants to their knees. Won't be a lot of fuckin' goin' on with those leg shackles, though.

"Creed—"

"But I bet yer girlfriend gives some pretty mean head. Probably sucks it up an' swallows it down like a real pro." Creed continued, adding insult to injury. Sagat was about to die of a heart attack. "I'm just sayin', though."

_Heh__, heh, heh,_ Creed laughed to himself, as Sagat hauled ass to the truck. His job here was done. That shit was ridiculous, but damn was it entertaining. Sagat was a fucking dumbass for letting a piece of ass rule his life like that. Hell, that meant more entertainment for him, though. He couldn't wait until the runt showed up. Then, things would really get good.

———

**_Author's Notes:_** Yeah, I know. I've just been so immersed in other projects that this one became secondary in the midst of it all. I'll never abandon this, though, because it's my baby. I'm trying to get on track with this, though. It just doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me at times. This chapter actually got so long that I had to break it into two parts. Thanks Nick for all your input, thanks to Sparkle for putting me in the sappiest mood I've been in for a while (blech!), and thanks for your review KamikazeTenshi. It got my butt into high gear. Oh! And a very special thanks to my friend, Spike, who answered all my asinine questions about chains and handcuffs and what could and couldn't be done while bound a certain way. Inspiration: Body Crumbles by Dry Cell


	11. Shadowloo

**_Ten  
Shadowloo_**

Vega slapped her, felt the satisfying sting of his palm against her cheek, and it was she who recoiled from him for the first time. Her hands covered her face, shielding her reaction from him, but he could see her breathing deeply, angrily. The irate static that filled the back of the truck replaced any earlier feelings that might've been floating on the air.

"I do not want your pity," he spat at her. He didn't want her throwing herself at him, thinking he could find any kind of comfort in her body. The thought of it, his reaction to it, repulsed him. Never did he allow women to have this effect on him. _Never_, and he wouldn't start with this one.

She finally removed her hands from her face, a livid handprint imprinted on her cheek. "It was not pity," she hissed at him. Her eyes blazed in her fury, cold slivers of ice that threatened to slice his skin.

"Then, what was it?" he asked, heatedly.

"I do not know!" she yelled back at him, and he smiled to himself. So, she _could_ lose her cool, occasionally. She took a deep breath and regained her composure, but he had already witnessed that slip of emotion. "Besides, I was not the one who kissed you. You kissed me."

"Because I thought that was what you expected from me." Except that wasn't entirely true. He had done it own his accord because of something he thought he felt for her. No, it was something he knew he felt, but the feeling disgusted him. To crave her body was one thing, but to equate emotion to that feeling was another.

"Since when do you care what I expect from you?" she asked with a derisive snort. "According to you, you do not care about anyone or anything except yourself." She made a valid point, using his own words against him, and he couldn't say anything in his own defense. Instead, he turned from her, sulking to himself.

Despite what he told Ororo about whores and wives, his experiences with women were limited. He hadn't been ready for his first sexual experience with a woman when it happened. He didn't like to think about the premise of how it happened, and had successfully run from the memory for years. Since then, he'd always treated sex as a dirty, putrid act that only gave him a moment's pleasure and nothing more, an act that was only meant for dirty alleyways and grimy hotels.

He never let a woman kiss him, never uttered any saccharine endearments, during sex. He never undressed completely, only unclothing enough to allow him access. So, sex with him was usually nothing more than the pushing up of skirts, the pushing aside of underwear, and the rough scrubbing of backs against the nearest wall. And when it was all over, he found the nearest shower and washed away the stink, the filth, of the act until his skin was raw. Even now, his skin tingled, though nothing had happened between him and Ororo aside from a kiss.

His reaction to Ororo had nothing to do with that, though. At least, that was what he told himself. Somehow, he knew that wasn't completely true, but he felt better, less inadequate, believing that his reaction had solely been because he felt she pity him. He didn't want her pity; he didn't need her pity. His experiences in life may not have been what one would call "wonderful," but he'd never wanted for anything in the material sense. There was no need for her to coddle him as if he was some broken doll.

He finally turned back to face her. Her eyes grazed his face, catching his eyes. He could still feel anger emitting from her, and he glared back at her just for good measure. She should've been cowering in fear of him, but she openly challenged him. She never said she didn't fear him, but he knew she wasn't afraid of him. Despite everything she knew about him, she still didn't fear him. When had it come to this?

———

Sagat calmed himself when he reached the truck where Vega and Ororo were being held. He looked over his shoulder in Creed's direction, but he was long gone. Sagat wished he was gone for good, but luck wasn't that kind to him. He couldn't believe he let something _Creed_ said effect him like that. Creed seemed like the type of person who liked to speak before he used his undersized brain, anyway.

He wanted to believe that Creed was lying to him, trying to get some kind of reaction from him, but there'd been something resolute about Creed's tone, something that made him sound so sure of himself. Before he could really think about the things Creed was saying, he found himself stalking toward the covered truck with murder on his mind, stopping short before he could rip away the military green tarp.

He'd seen more happen between them than they probably believed. Their relationship—if you could call it that—fascinated him on some level. To see them come together interested him, but he hadn't expected to hear that there might be something more going on than what he believed. He expected a lot of things to come of this, but not _that_.

Ororo angered him. He had expected her defiance, but he hadn't expected her to attach herself to someone like _Vega_. He hadn't expected Vega to readily accept her, either, but it seemed as if they forged some kind of camaraderie. Putting them together had really been a test of their tolerance. He knew Vega seemed to have an aversion to women, and he knew Ororo had an aversion to evil.

He'd expected them to be at each other's throats, but the opposite happened. What was that saying again? Opposites attract. Maybe, for once, it was right. He had two completely different people who would dislike each other under ordinary circumstances working together. When he watched the way the two interacted, he felt a twinge of jealousy, but he would never admit that to anyone but himself. To be jealous of Vega was a fate worse than death in his opinion.

He could care less about Vega's looks. His envy stemmed from the fact that Ororo _cared_ about him. Despite the vanity, despite the bloodlust, she _cared_ about Vega. He knew it was in her good nature to care about everyone, but she sacrificed so much for Vega. Maybe, she knew that no matter how much Sagat threatened he couldn't truly harm her, not until she pushed him just far enough. Perhaps, that is why she stuck her neck out for Vega. Maybe, it was for her own selfish reasons, reasons he didn't much care to think about.

Vega treated Ororo with a mixture of antipathy and fondness. One moment he seemed to be drawing to her, and the next he was pulling away from her. Defending her and abhorring her all in the same breath. He'd always thought of Vega as an asexual creature because he didn't show any ardor for anything other than blood and killing. Sagat hadn't believed that fleshy pleasures of the sexual variety appealed to him, but Creed seemed to think otherwise. Then again, what did Creed know? He was a moron.

Sagat pushed his impending feelings about the situation between Ororo and Vega out of his mind, as he thought about Bison. Ordinarily, he wouldn't depend on Bison as a stronghold because he knew how fickle the man could be. But the trip was needed, anyway. He had munitions that he should've delivered to Bison eons ago, but he kept finding reasons to put it off. That was his excuse for his sudden trip to Bison's. Though, he dreaded actually having to intermingle with the man.

In his experience, Mike Bison did not play well with others. He was the type of man who always had to have his way. He didn't care who he had to use, what he had to do, or what laws he had to break in order to do so. He was even prone to temper tantrums that he tried to disguise as a "show of power" when he didn't get what he wanted. Sagat pushed away an amusing image of Bison demolishing a sand castle with a Chuck Taylor-clad foot and forcing mud pies down some poor child's throat.

He wouldn't deny that Bison wielded much power, though, and he would have to be careful on how he went about taking that power from him. If he gave Bison even the least little reason to suspect him, he might find himself in worse conditions that Vega. He wondered who Bison had in mind to take him down should the time come. Maybe, when Bison decided he really wanted to get rid of him, he would do the deed himself. Not likely, though.

Sagat stood outside the truck for a little longer before pulling back the tarp, expecting the worst. He didn't catch them in the act, as he'd suspected after Creed's warning, but something had definitely happened between them. He could tell by the way that they glared at each other. Who wouldn't notice that battle of the glares?

They didn't look at him, though he made no effort to be silent. They only seemed intent on staring each other down. He had to get those two away from each other, and he had to do it now. They either looked like they were going to kill each other or… he didn't want to think about it. He said very little, as he led Ororo away from Vega, and for once, she didn't protest.

———

Stand down. Those were Scott's orders. _Stand down__, they were on their way_. Logan contacted the X-Men with the little information he knew about Ororo. He'd spoken to Hank who relayed everything Scott had said to him. Scott and Jean were already in Thailand, back in Hua Hin where this whole mess started. The others were gone to handle some crisis involving the Hellfire Club. Sebastian Shaw never gave up, did he?

Scott and Jean were miles away from Logan, and Scott expected him to _stand down_ until they found a rendezvous point. Like hell he would. What did Scott expect him to do? Stand around and play skip-rope with the village children while waiting for them. _Fuck that_. They could've stayed at the mansion and talk about their strategies and game plans for all he cared. He was going to rescue his friend with or without them. He was working on borrowed time.

He explained in as much detail as he could to Hank about the current situation. He told him what he learned from Elena. He told him about his encounter with Creed in the jungle. And Hank told him what he found out about Sagat. Logan told him to do some research on a man named Bison. If anyone could find out about him, it was Hank. He didn't know their exact coordinates. All he could tell him was to tell Scott and Jean that he was going to some place called Shadowloo.

He wasn't so successful in finding people who were willing to go to that place. When he asked an innkeeper about transportation to Shadowloo, the man frowned up and asked him, "Why you wanna go to place like that? It is _very_ bad place." He guessed that place was more of a shithole than this one. He hadn't thought that was possible.

He didn't really need anyone to go with him as if he was inept. All he needed was someone to point him in the right direction, give him something that was motorized, and he'd do the rest. Now, all he had to do was figure out what to do about the girl. She'd been helpful. He'd send her a "thank you" card or something. He really didn't need her getting into any more trouble on his behalf. She wasn't exactly the easiest person in the world to get rid of, though. He'd figure out how to get around her in the morning.

———

Ororo fumed silently, as she let Sagat lead her off to wherever it was he was taking her. His tent, that's where he was taking her. She should've known. Of course, he had the largest tent in the camp, not that she expected anything less from him. She didn't expect that he would try to take advantage of her. He made it quite clear how he wanted all this to work.

"Overcompensating for something?" she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You would know better than anyone if I am or if I'm not," he said.

"That was a long time ago, Victor, and memories have a way of exaggerating themselves." Ororo said. She'd rather not remember all the times they were together. Those days were long past.

"Or not," he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes at him before taking a seat on a makeshift chair. She waited for him to get to the point. There was always a reason he wanted to see her. She wouldn't ask. She would wait until he said what he really wanted to say. That had been one trait she appreciated about him for the most part. He didn't beat around the bush when he had something to say.

"What's going on between you and Vega?" he finally asked without build up.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked. She'd wanted him to get to the point, but she already didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

"I think you know," he said. She thought she was playing the part of the innocent. She didn't fool him.

"And I think you assume too much." Ororo answered glaring at him. There was nothing going on between her and Vega, and that should've been plain to see.

Sagat began to pace in front of her. "Creed seemed to think that you and Vega were getting quite cozy together," he told her. He stopped pacing long enough to look at Ororo's face. Her expression remained emotionless, betraying nothing at all.

"Why would he say something like that?" she asked.

"Because he…" Sagat trailed off for a moment, seeming to rethink his words. If Creed said it, it was undoubtedly crude and needed rephrasing. "He said he smelled your arousal on the air."

Ororo paused for a beat before she answered him. "He could have been mistaken." Ororo said. She knew she was lying. Creed was about as feral as they came, and he—like Logan—had senses that never lied. But would Sagat know that? Had he studied up enough on mutants to have that sort of knowledge?

"Ororo, I'm not stupid. I know as well as you do that he wasn't mistaken. Lying was never one of your better qualities, anyway." Sagat said, shaking his head. She wondered what tipped him off—the fact that she was lying or something else. One thing was certain. He was jealous.

This is how things had always been between them, even when they were together. One of the worst fights they ever had was when he accused her of sleeping with two brothers—twins, Bhakati and Bharat —when they were together. She would never deny that they were beautiful with their dark eyes and sun-kissed skin. She remembered how Bharat, the one who's name meant fire, the braver of the two, would whisper sins in her ears. But she was faithful to Sagat, always faithful despite his accusations.

They were no longer together, hadn't been in years, and he treated her as if they still really meant something to one another. He had to let the past go. She felt like screaming at him that he just needed to let her go, to let it all go. They were never meant to be. They wanted different things out of life. She wanted to promote peace. He wanted to destroy the world. That made them natural enemies.

"What did happen between you two?" he asked, resuming his pace. She saw his eyebrows knit together in anticipation of her response.

"We shared a kiss," she answered. There was no reason not to tell him the truth about that. That's all it was a simple kiss. She accused Vega of initiating it, but she hadn't done anything to stop it. However, none of that mattered now.

"That's all?" he asked, as if he didn't believe her. She wondered what kind of things Creed had told him. She could only begin to imagine the rubbish that he'd probably planted in Sagat's head.

"That was it," she answered in the affirmative. He seemed satisfied with her answer because he didn't force the issue.

"Does he arouse you?" he asked suddenly.

She didn't want to get into that with him. Whatever she may or may not feel where Vega was concerned had nothing to do with them. And quite frankly, she didn't think it was any of his concern. "Does it really matter, Victor?" she asked, feeling her face warm. She refused to look at him. Instead, she looked down at the ground.

"Yes, it matters to me," he said, stopping in front of her, again. She looked up at him and she could see a deadly seriousness gleaming from his eye. So, what would happen if she told him the truth? Would he try to hurt Vega more?

"Maybe," she said quietly.

"That isn't an answer. Either he does or he doesn't."

"Why are you torturing yourself by asking me these questions?" she said, irritably, despising his persistence in getting her to make some kind of lewd confession.

"Because I'm interested," he said, trying to sound blasé. "Now, answer the question."

She had forgotten how much he liked details about everything, especially where her excitement was concerned. He was the first man she'd ever been with, but during the course of their relationship, he always wanted to know about her fantasies, her desires—no matter how dark. She thought he might've liked to watch her with another man, but his jealous streak wouldn't allow it.

"It is not as easy as yes or no," she said, still maintaining her calm voice.

"I don't see why not. It's a fairly straight-forward question that requires a fairly straight-forward answer," he said, his voice picking up a little more anger.

"You have forced us into this situation, and you cannot expect for certain feelings not to arise. When you are around someone constantly…" she started, but he stopped her.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, snidely, glaring at her.

"You can take it as you please," she shot back in a voice that was just as snide. She started to say something more, but she knew it would only anger him more.

"Why?" he asked. She was taken off-guard by the question, and she shook her head, not understanding. "Why do you feel compassion for him? Care for _him_?"

"Why not him, Victor?" Ororo asked.

Maybe, Vega didn't deserve her sympathy, but did Sagat deserve it any more because of their history? If anything, he deserved it far less than anyone did.

———

He didn't see Ororo again until the morning. He wondered what Sagat planned to do with her. She looked unharmed and perfectly calm, as usual, so all the things he thought happened had not. She didn't say anything to him, and the tension between them was strong on the air.

"I did not mean to strike you," he said after a few tense moments. He didn't know why he said that. His hand hadn't slipped and slapped her. It was just a reaction, but she hadn't been a threat to him. There'd been no need to hit her.

She didn't say anything, at first. He hadn't even believed that she heard him. "Apology accepted," she said without looking at him.

"That was not an apology," he said.

"I know it wasn't," she said in an unconvinced tone. She could believe whatever she wanted about what he said to her, but it might've been _vaguely_ similar to an apology. But just _vaguely_.

It was nightfall again by the time the arrived at their destination, but the city was still alive. It never slept. It was a modern day Babylon. He knew the sounds well. He could imagine the children playing in the filthy streets when they should've been home. Yelling filled the streets, vendors trying to sell their various wares from knock-off purses to prostitutes. Anything you could ever want could be found on the streets for a price.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent any real time in the city. He no longer visited Shadowloo, if it could be helped. When Bison needed his "services," he would come into the city just long enough to receive his mission objectives. Then, he was gone again, just like that. Sometimes, he didn't even have to come to the city due to high-tech advances Bison made. The age of technology was beautiful.

Sometimes, he was required to accompany Bison or one of the other operatives on a mission, but even then, he never came into the city until the last minute, preferring to meet at their destination point rather than Shadowloo. And that's how things had been for years now. He tried to avoid Shadowloo at all costs.

Bison hadn't been the happiest person when Vega told him he would prefer to work from home, but he obliged him because of his tenure, saying it was a reward for Vega's loyalty. Vega hadn't cared what he called it at the time as long as he didn't have to stay there, anymore. He didn't waste any time getting away from their. The same day Bison granted it, he was gone.

He couldn't imagine what things would be like now that Bison had decided his "tenure" was up and turned him over to Sagat. Sweat trickled down his spine as he counted the minutes in his head. It wouldn't be long now. When the sounds of the street began to mellow, he couldn't help letting a small laugh escape his lips.

Bison operated on the outskirts of the city. People were under the illusion that Bison lived and did his dirty dealings in the city, but he didn't. He had a place in the city, but that wasn't where most of his operation took place. Bison's empire lay cleverly hidden in the jungles outside the city. It was so close, right under their noses, and they always missed it.

Vega's breathing stopped with the truck, as if he were waiting for the blow to his stomach that would never come. Shadowloo soldiers escorted them from the truck. A glint of recognition gleamed in their eyes when they saw Vega. Surely, this was not the proud, vain Spanish Assassin. Vega narrowed his eyes at them, setting his chin defiantly.

Instead of being taken to a cell from the truck, they were taken to a room with walls so white they screamed sterile. There were two simple, single beds in the room, the kind that be found at any surplus store. Connected to the room was a small bathroom that contained a shower, a toilet, and a sink. A small, movable closet sat catty-cornered across the room.

He walked toward it and opened it. He saw standard issue Shadowloo uniforms inside. He fingered the material of the cloth before slamming the doors closed. He hadn't been in one of these rooms since he "graduated" from Bison's training program. They were in a trainee's room, wannabe Shadowloo soldiers. He hadn't been in one of those rooms in years, and he had never planned to return after he left. Too many memories. Most of them not so good.

He would've preferred to be put in a cell than in that room. He walked towards the door and turned the knob. Locked. He shouldn't have expected anything less. The doors had always locked, even when he was in training. He walked away from the door, pushing himself into a corner. He slid down the wall, holding his fingers to his temple.

This was all some kind of sick, twisted joke. He closed his eyes tightly and told himself that when he opened them he'd still be on the back of the truck, or not there at all. But when he opened his eyes, blinding white walls threatened to fold in on him. He could feel his head swimming, and he slumped further down the wall. Blood drummed in his ears.

Now, he knew how Ororo had felt when she'd been trapped in her small confines. He had to get out. "Vega, are you okay?" he heard Ororo ask through the pounding in his ears.

"No, it hurts. Turn out the lights," he heard himself saying, though he hadn't meant to. He could recall uttering those words once before in a room just like that one. _Vega, are you okay? Vega? Vega?_ he heard someone ask, but it wasn't Ororo's voice. It was someone else, someone from his past. _No, it hurts. Turn out the lights_, he heard a younger version of himself reply.

The lights went out, and for a moment, he almost panicked until he remembered that he told Ororo to turn them out. Dim light spilled through the small window on the door. He gripped the sides of his head and groaned. "Vega?" he heard Ororo saying from across the room. _You were always my favorite_, he heard the voice in his head.

"Vega?" her voice was louder and filled with alarm. She was closer. He couldn't answer her; his jaws seemed glued together. All he could do was listen to the horrors in his head.

_My lamb and martyr…_

"Vega!" she said. She was even closer now, but he was too far gone to answer her. He pushed himself against the wall, his spine aching from the pressure of being sandwiched against the wall.

_…this will be over soon…_

"Vega, answer me!" her voice sounded small in his head, overshadowed by all the other voices he could hear. He swallowed hard, as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had to stop this. He was free of this. He was stronger than this. He covered his ears, closing his eyes tightly.

_Go back to sleep…_

"No!" Vega felt a hand touch his shoulder. _Kill_. He grabbed the frail wrist, twisting it mercilessly, before he realized that it was only Ororo, just Ororo. She took in a sharp breath that betrayed pain, and he released her wrist. "That was stupid of you to touch me. I could have killed you," he said. That was the only thing going through his mind when he felt her touch him.

"I am sorry, but I was concerned," she said. He sneered at her. Her _concern_ nearly got her killed. If he hadn't snapped out of it, there's no telling what he would have done to her. "I did not know what was happening to you. You seemed to be going into some sort of panic attack."

Panic attack was putting it lightly. It was more like reliving a nightmare. "It's this room," was all he said before slowly standing up. He didn't move from his spot immediately.

He could make out her questioning expression in the dim light, as she sat down on one of the beds. "Vega, what are you doing? You're hurting yourself," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

He hadn't noticed that he was scratching his arms. Long, deep scratches that left thin lines of blood ran up and down his arms. Without thinking, he licked the wounds, tasting the tart tang of his blood. Ororo looked at him horrified. She had to understand. This was the only comfort he really had, and she would much rather it be his own blood than hers.

"He's watching. He is _always_ watching." Vega said, ignoring her as his nails dug deeper into his skin.

"Who is _he_?" Ororo asked, but Vega wouldn't answer her. She would find out soon enough.

———

Ororo sat on the bed with her back against the wall. She feared that if she slept, Vega would go into a psychotic episode. He might hurt her, himself, or both of them in his rage. The throbbing of her wrist wouldn't let her forget that. Earlier, a plan of escape started formulating in her head, but she pushed that aside as she held watch.

Eventually, he had let her get close enough to him to pull his fingers away from his skin. He, wordlessly, let her clean the new wounds and check the old ones on his back while she prayed that he didn't snap completely. Then, as if resigned to some fate that only he knew, he finally went to bed and fell asleep.

What she saw earlier scared her. She watched him as he shoved himself against the wall and began pulling at his hair, covering his ears, scratching his skin, talking to himself… tasting his blood. She'd never seen him act like that, but she knew a battle with personal demons when she saw it. Vega had problems. He wouldn't deny that, but what he failed to see is how his problems shaped him more than he believed.

He was just one step ahead of total insanity. He had his problems, but she didn't believe he had completely lost it… yet. He believed he was strong, but his fragile psyche was on the brink of cracking. When that happened, if that happened, she feared that no one would ever be able to bring him back to any kind of normalcy.

And after what she witnessed, she realized that he had problems that were particularly deep-rooted, and this place was partly responsible. He hadn't told her much about that phase in his life when he was talking to her. He glossed over it and moved on, even though he said he'd spent a large portion of his life there.

Vega blamed the room for whatever happened to him earlier. What had happened in this room? She looked around the room. She didn't understand why they were put there, anyway. It wasn't luxury, but it was better than what they'd been forced to stay in. They even unbound them. _He is _always_ watching_. A dark chill ran up her spine, and she rubbed her arms, warding away the goosebumps.

———

**Author's Notes:** Due to the long, rambling nature that my author's notes have started to take on, my author's notes can now be found on my livejournal "authorsnotes." The link has been provided in my profile. There you will find my author's notes for the chapter, which will mostly include tidbits you need to know, such as credits if I borrowed something, etc. Questions asked in reviews for previous chapters will be answered there, as well.


	12. Power

_**Eleven  
Power**_

Vega struggled when he felt someone pushing hard into his back, holding him down, his face buried in his pillow. He couldn't move. He could feel the air being forced from his lungs, his eyes stinging from lack of air. He was suffocating. With a large gulping breath, he sat up in the bed, quickly, hands poised for an attack. But no one was there.

He looked around the room, disoriented, nearly letting out a scream when he realized where he was. Then, he reminded himself that Sagat had brought them there. He'd only been having a dream—no, a _nightmare_. Ororo was sitting up in her bed, her head leaning against the wall. She slept peacefully while he dreamed of things best forgotten.

He lay back slowly, resting his head against the pillow. He wouldn't go back to sleep, not now, but the longer he laid there, the heavier his eyelids became until he finally settled into another bout of fitful sleep. His dreams wouldn't allow him to sleep soundly, reminding him of things he buried inside of himself after leaving Shadowloo. Vega jerked violently in his bed, as voices and faces from long ago assaulted his dreams.

He sat up in his bed, again, his breath coming in short spasms. He ran to the bathroom, trying in vain to lock the door. There wasn't one. He knew that, had always known that. He turned on the shower. It was hotter than he could stand it, but he didn't care. He let the steamy flow of water burn his skin, as he rubbed until his skin glowed red.

———

Ororo woke with a jolt when she heard Vega scream. _Oh goddess_, she'd gone to sleep, even though she tried not to. She hadn't been too sure she could trust Vega in this state. She didn't know if she could trust him to control himself—and not just in regards to her own safety.

Vega wasn't in his bed, but she saw light pouring beneath the crack in the bathroom door. She swallowed hard and stood from the bed. She was afraid to the open the door. She didn't know what she might find, what he might do—_what he might've already done_.

She put her hand on the doorknob, haltingly. She debated with herself whether she should really go in or not, reminding herself of what happened earlier when she touched his shoulder. She knew she couldn't just turn her back. It wasn't in her nature. She heard the sound of glass breaking, and she opened the door without another thought.

The bathroom was sweltering. Steam from the shower covered the bathroom in a blanket of fog, but she was far less concerned about that than what she saw before her. Vega's skin was raw and red from rubbing. The only thing left untouched was his face. Parts of his skin had been rubbed so roughly that they bled lightly.

That wasn't her main concern, though. Her eyes were concentrated on the glass he had in his bloody hands. She didn't know what he intended to do with it until she saw him put it to his own wrist. He pulled it across his wrists shallowly. Then, he brought the wound to his lips, slowly.

She moved closer to him, making sure her movements were slow and controlled. She didn't want to move suddenly and cause him to startle. "Give it to me," she said quietly like a mother to her child, holding out her hand.

He didn't seem to hear her. He only looked at the cut he made with interest. She saw him put the glass to his wrist again. She grabbed his wrist, suddenly, surprising him, slamming his hand against the wall until he let go of the glass. "Listen to me. Snap out of it!" she said to him. He still didn't say anything. He only started shaking, despite the heat in the bathroom.

She found two towels hanging on the rack, and she yanked one from the rack, using it to cover Vega. _At least, this Bison person was halfway accommodating_, she thought sarcastically to herself. She can't imagine what could've happened there to make him react in such a way. She only knew that they had to get away from there before he lost it completely.

———

Vega recalled what happened the night before. When he got up from that bed, he hadn't felt like himself at all. He felt like he was watching himself in a movie, unable to stop himself from doing what he did. She didn't need to worry about him now, though. The days had always been better than nights for him. Sanity came with the dawn. It was how things always worked when he was staying in the compound. However, Ororo still watched him warily.

There were no more dreams after Ororo helped him. For that, he was thankful. He hadn't tried to hurt Ororo in his fury. He was glad for that, as well. When he woke up that morning, he saw the questioning in her eyes. She knew he was nutcase, but she didn't know he was that much of a nutcase. _She still has a lot to learn about me_, he said to himself.

What happened was just a violent reaction, a response to coming back to that room after not seeing it for years. After he "graduated" from the program, he never went into to the trainee area. Not the sleeping quarters, anyway. He hadn't even stayed in the compound. After he "graduated", before he went home to Barcelona, he found his own place in Shadowloo, and he stayed there. Outside of work, he never stayed around the compound long.

He doubted his reaction would happen again. He wouldn't _let_ it happen again, as long as he still had some control over his mind. At least, he wanted to believe that. As long as he was there, he didn't know what he might do. All he knew was that things got better in the daylight when he could see everything.

He remembered praying for the daylight many nights when he was trainee at the compound. He remembered the sleepless nights asking God to save him. He remembered the pain of realizing that no one could save him. He blamed his time spent in Bison's camp for his loss of faith. Oh, he still believed in God, and sometimes a sudden rush of faith would overtake him, as it had when he witnessed Ororo's power.

However, he no longer had any faith in God. He'd come to believe a long time ago that God couldn't save his life. Everything that happened to him—then and now—had nothing to do with God's will. He visited a priest once while he was Bison's student. The priest told him that he was broken, but his faith would heal him. Bullshit.

His faith hadn't done anything for him except remind him how alone he was in the world, how he couldn't depend on anyone but himself. In the end, God would save him. Sadly, he didn't believe in that anymore. In the end, only he could save himself.

———

Didn't Elena ever do anything useful like _sleep_?

When he woke the next morning, he figured he would leave the princess sleeping. It wasn't that he wasn't appreciative of her help. However, whatever lay ahead wasn't something she needed to bear witness to. He'd send her a Christmas card or something. That's how he figured things would go down, anyway. He'd forgotten how good he was at attracting kids, especially kids of the female variety. And he'd forgotten how hard it was to shake 'em once they made up their mind.

When he made it to the main entry of the inn, she was already waiting for him. "I got us a truck, Mr. Logan," she said, pulling on his arm. Well, wasn't she just bright-eyed and ready for the world? She showed him to a standard issue military jeep. How in the hell…? And what was up with that "us" shit? She'd only invited herself along for the ride.

She walked around the jeep, seating herself in the driver's side. She didn't really think he was going to let her drive, did she? He was nobody's fool. He knew firsthand the horror of teenagers driving, and it wasn't an experience he was looking to relive. He walked over to the driver's side. "No way, princess. You over there."

"My name is _Elena_," he heard her mutter under her breath as she slid over to the passenger's side of the truck.

She showed him a map that looked liked something that was twenty years too old to be considered modern, but hell, most of the roadside villages he'd been to in that country probably hadn't changed since Jesus-fucking-Christ walked the earth. "This is the area we just left," she said pointing at a small area on the map, "and this is where we're going."

There wasn't much spatial distance between them and Shadowloo on the map, but they had the thick foliage to consider. It wouldn't make the journey easier.

"The drive will take us about a day." Elena said, shading her eyes from the sun. "We'll have to stop when it gets dark, though, but you know that already. If we drive fast, we might get there by late tomorrow morning."

"Don'tcha think ya should stay here?" he asked her.

She cast him a sidelong glance. Obvious dislike at the idea painted her face. "I've come this far with you, Mr. Logan. I want to see this through to the end."

The next thirty minutes consisted of them going back and forth about her staying in the village. She must've been blessed with Ororo's stubbornness as well. He relented only because he didn't want to waste anymore time arguing with her.

The rain started not even an hour into their trip. He hadn't thought about how much worse the terrain would be during a rainstorm. The rain came suddenly like an angered tempest, thick sheets of raining nearly blinding him. One minute the sun was sweltering, beaming down on them intensely. The A/C in the truck sputtered and died twenty minutes into the trip, and he thought he'd bake under the sun, as his shirt clung to thick rivulets of his sweat.

The next minute the thunderheads were rolling in, and while the temperature cooled considerably, the rain was not a good thing. It had been overcast the day before, but it hadn't rained. He'd heard mention of it being the "rainy season" by some tourists in Hua Hin, but he hadn't thought that he was going to go on some goddamn monkey chase through the Thai jungles. So, he hadn't thought much of the information at the time.

During the beginning of the storm, he figured what was a little rain compared to the life of his friend. She was always willing to risk her life for any one of them, and if the tables were turned, he knew she would do the same for him.

"You're going to kill us," Elena screamed at one point during their drive through the storm, pulling her long legs up into her seat, wrapping her arms around her legs. She buried her face into her knees. "Mr. Logan, you have to stop," she said softly, but his determination wouldn't allow him to stop, even as the girl cringed and whimpered at his side. Well… he didn't stop, _at first_.

He could be reckless with his own well-being, but he couldn't be reckless with hers even if he hadn't been his idea for her to come along in the first place. He stopped and after waiting two hours, the rain finally let up, but that was two hours of driving that he couldn't get back even driving like madman. Then, he had to take in consideration that they would have to stop for the night. Not a great start.

———

Bison didn't have them bound as Sagat had, a testimony of his power. Ororo was hardly a threat, and Bison knew that Vega wouldn't try anything. Vega had too much fear where the man was concerned to actually try something rebellious. Sagat may think twice about killing him, but Bison never would. Vega was forced to crawl before Bison on his knees. He wouldn't even look up at the man when he heard his voice booming throughout the room.

"You still haven't disposed of him? What are you waiting for? You've had your fun with him from what I see," Bison said, running a finger over one of the welts on Vega's back. He pressed down on the wound hard, causing pains to shoot through Vega. "Haven't you ever heard the expression, it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, or in your case the other eye."

"He won't be escaping any time soon." Sagat answered, his tone bland. He didn't want to give away too much emotion in front of Bison.

"I think you take Vega too lightly. I didn't keep him around so long because he was handsome." Bison quipped. "But who am I to tell a man what to do with his quarry? What's the purpose of the woman?"

"She means nothing to me. She's the reward of a recent battle." Sagat lied with expertise. Vega didn't know the details of Sagat's relationship with Ororo, but she did mean _something_ to him. It was obvious from his recent display of actions.

Bison shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"What is that around your neck?" Sagat asked. Vega lifted his eyes toward his former master. A necklace holding a cloudy stone adorned Sagat's chest.

"This is a crystal I obtained while I was in Indochina. It's very powerful."

"I didn't think you were the type of man that dabbled in the dark arts." Sagat said, sarcasm edging his tone. Vega watched the exchange between the two men curiously. Sagat apparently harbored some contempt for Bison, but Bison didn't notice or he chose to ignore it. Vega was willing to bet it was the latter over the former.

Bison had Sagat at his whim. Sagat would be a fool to challenge Bison, and Vega was sure Sagat was well aware of this fact. The only way Sagat could ever hope to overthrow Bison is if he obtained more… "Power." Vega said, looking at Ororo. Yes, Sagat would need more power, and Ororo was that power. Vega hadn't seen the full extent of what she could do, but what he had seen terrified him.

This wasn't just about old feelings. It was about power and domination as well. Sagat was smarter than Vega gave him credit for, but if Bison ever found out that Sagat was planning to double-cross him, Bison would have Sagat's head on a platter. A smile crept across Vega's face. Perhaps, if he were alone with Bison long enough, he could relay these suspicions, and he'd regain his former position. But did he really want to work for a man who betrayed him?

"I don't chase silly, village legends if that's what you're implying, but I do like anything that promises me more power." Bison said, pulling the stone away from his chest. "It allows me to steal power from anyone, and it is stored in the stone until I choose to use it. Would you care for a demonstration? Bring me the woman."

A guard pulled Ororo toward Bison, and Bison gripped her arm tightly. She looked away from him, trying to mask her fear, but she did not protest. "Why don't you use it on Vega? The woman is weak." Sagat said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Bison gripped Ororo's face firmly between his fingers, turning her face toward his. She winced from the force of the hold. "If she is nothing to you, why do you fear for her? Don't worry, Sagat, I won't hurt her… much." Bison countered, staring into Ororo's eyes.

"But–"

Bison turned threateningly toward Sagat. "Do you dare defy me, _your_ master?" Sagat shrank back from Bison's angry words. Bison then turned his attention back to Ororo. He seemed to be concentrating on her, and Ororo writhed as if she were in pain. A red glow surrounded him and became more vivid with each passing moment.

Ororo's power was feeding the odd glow. She could feel it being ripped from her like flesh, and she moaned in pain. "You must stop," she said fighting against him, weakly.

Vega stood from his submissive position. "Stop it! You are killing her!" Vega shouted, fighting against the guards, but they held him tightly as Bison continued to drain Ororo's power. A wolfish grin covered Bison's face as Ororo's head fell back and her eyes clouded over. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, again, they were blood red. The hair on Vega's arm stood as static filled the room. He remembered this feeling from their initial meeting.

Ororo began to speak, but he didn't understand what she was saying. She spoke rapidly her voice rising and falling in ethereal crescendos. It was very unlike her normal tone; she seemed almost crazed. "You have to stop, my Lord." Sagat said. Vega turned his head toward Sagat angrily. This would have never happened if that spineless pig hadn't brought her there. Bison had an uncanny ability to sniff out power with or without that crystal.

Suddenly, Bison released her, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. "Interesting…" Bison said simply, looking down at Ororo. He held the crystal before him. It was no longer the milky white color that it once was. Instead, it now shone a bright vermillion, the same color Ororo's eyes had been. "Interesting, indeed."

Bison barely glanced at Ororo, as he turned on his heel and walked out the room. Sagat gathered Ororo's body into his arms, cradling her listless body. "Take him away." Sagat commanded without looking his way, far too worried about Ororo to be concerned with Vega.

———

Vega waited impatiently, but he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. For Ororo to return perhaps? It'd been hours since their intial meeting with Bison, and he'd been pacing the floors of their room since he returned, dark thoughts swirling in his head. He could only imagine what might be happening to her. At least, Sagat had a bit of decorum; Bison had none.

The door to their room opened and Vega paused in mid-pace. A female guard led Ororo into the room. Ororo walked slowly, her head down, seemingly in a trance. Had Vega been a man with less pride, he might've rushed to her side.

The guard cast a warning glare Vega's way. She didn't believe that he was really stupid enough to try to attack her in Bison's compound, but she'd heard tales about him. Some of the older guards who'd trained with Vega said his attitude was borderline "just-don't-give-a-fuck." That was never a very positive attitude to have. At least, that's what she'd learned while training.

The guard left without so much as a glance backward, slamming the door behind her, glad the woman was now Vega's problem rather than her own. It'd been eerie walking down the hallways with the white-haired woman whose eyes glowed scarily. She knew she was mutant and a powerful one at that. She'd felt the air tingle with power when she'd led the woman back to the room. Whatever was holding her back from using her powers wouldn't hold her long.

Ororo groaned loudly and put a hand to her forehead. She stood there for a moment, and then, she began to talk in that strange language again. Her words started low and picked up volume. He watched somewhat afraid as she raised her hands, looking to the ceiling.

"Ororo, what is wrong?" He said, walking toward her cautiously. She turned toward him suddenly, pointing a finger at him, speaking quickly. He stopped moving for a moment. He could see that her eyes had changed again to that red color. What was happening to Ororo? She looked to the ceiling again, turning her palms up.

An aurora borealis of red power encompassed her, the same power that Bison had taken from her, but it dimmed and faded again as quickly as it'd appeared. She fell to the ground with a soul-weary sigh and remained immobile; he approached her watchfully. She wasn't moving, and she didn't appear to be breathing. He hesitated over her body, trying to decide what to do.

He dropped to his knees beside her body, putting his face close to hers. She definitely wasn't breathing, but she had to breathe sometime… right? Her lips parted slightly, and he heard a breath hitch in her throat. She struggled to pull in air, but she just didn't seem able to breathe. Panic chilled his blood as he took her body in his arms.

He shook her body slightly. "You _must_ breathe," he said, keeping his voice at a moderate level. He didn't want to yell. That would only attract the guards. And what would they do when they saw Ororo struggling for air? Take her back to Sagat? Notify Bison? Would they do anything to save her if they could? No, he didn't believe so. He swallowed hard while she took another aborted breath.

He placed her body flat on the floor again, tilting her head back, placing his lips over hers. He didn't know CPR. That was something they neglected to teach him when he was learning under Bison's command. They learned that every man had to look out for his own life. You couldn't expect someone to save you. If you survived, it was because you were self-reliant. If you died, it was because you were careless. Besides, there had been more important things to learn than CPR—such as one hundred different ways to kill a man with a single strike.

He could only go on what he'd seen on television on the rare occasion that he had watch television. He breathed into her mouth, willing his own life into her body. Then, he pumped her chest, worrying that maybe he wasn't doing it right, especially since she still wasn't breathing. "Come on," he said through gritted teeth. She couldn't die on him. Not like this. She _couldn't_ leave him.

Finally, she he heard her take in a deep, arduous breath. Her eyes flew open suddenly, and he saw her clutch at her chest. She pulled in another hard breath. Then, her breathing steadied. Relief rushed through him. She sat up slowly, breathing in and out deeply. They spoke no words; both unsure of what was appropriate to break the silence with. She spoke first, her words grim.

"I was dead," she said bleakly.

There was no need to sugarcoat what happened. She'd seen him again that man. She'd been resting in a lavishly decorated bedroom when he summoned for her again. That man—Bison—had been so determined to take everything she had to give. When he used that eerie crystal on her again, he seemed determined to make this time count. Only he hadn't expected the reaction her body had to gem.

Even though she was unable to use her powers, her powers protected its host. She'd been on the brink of exhaustion, but somehow, someway, the stray bolt of lightning had coursed furiously through her body, striking him square in the chest, slamming him against the wall. She didn't know how strong the bolt had been, but she knew it had to be considerably powerful.

The exertion from the force of it had left her even more tired. He'd taken her blow, though, with minor injury, leaving her to wonder what his story was. A lesser man would've been knocked unconscious from a strike—maybe even killed. He was relatively unharmed, a gaping hole in his uniform where he'd been hit. She thought he would retaliate, especially since she was vulnerable. He didn't. He made a comment about the whole thing being "interesting." She remembered he used that word the first time he'd used the gem on her.

"No, you just had difficulty breathing." Vega said shaking his head, interrupting her flow of thoughts.

She shook her head back at him. "No, Vega, I was dead." Ororo said softly. She'd felt the chilled hand of death as it squeezed her heart to a stuttering stop. She'd seen the blackness, the eternal void of death. She stood gingerly, and he assisted her to her bed, even though she claimed she was perfectly fine.

Dying hadn't been as hard as she thought, but she was ashamed she'd given in to it so easily. She never really pictured what her last days would be like, preferring to live in "the now," but she certainly hadn't had kidnapping in mind or subjection to a maniac on her list. She often thought she might die nobly during one of her missions. She never thought that she might actually die at the whim of some madman.

She sat on the bed, drawing her legs close to her chest. Vega watched her warily as he backed to his own corner of the room. She smiled at him slightly before turning her eyes to the barred window. Despite the collar she wore, she felt the first tingling of lightning crackle from her fingers. The heavens were calling.

———

**Author's Notes:** Chapter notes can be found on my forum "Author's Notes," which is accessible through my profile.


	13. Conundrum

_**Note: Not a real update quite yet. I just extended this chapter a bit and re-uploaded it. I couldn't make myself go on if I wasn't happy with this chapter. :( Sorry. The beginning's pretty much the same, the ending… not so much… Still pretty much a gateway chapter. I'll remove this author's note when I upload the next chapter. **_

_**Twelve  
Conundrum**_

Vega woke from his sleep to see Ororo scrutinizing the door. It was still dark outside, so he couldn't have been sleep too long. She'd actually fell asleep long before he had, and he had actually watched her, afraid that she might stop breathing at any time. He'd been too shaken by what happened to immediately fall asleep, even though he was tired. He watched her drift into sleep, trying to decipher the cryptic feelings that pressed his soul.

He had actually saved her—if you let her tell the story. She claimed that he brought her back from death, and if she was right, wasn't that the antithesis of everything he'd ever stood for? He took life without regret, but he saved hers in the heat of the moment. And he was actually _glad_ about it when that should've been the last thing on his mind. He should've put her out of her misery rather than attempt to bring her back.

He'd let those thoughts roll around in her head until he succumbed to sleep. Now, he was up again due to unsettling dreams that promised never to go away, watching as Ororo… what _was_ Ororo doing, anyway? She was just looking at the door—or rather the doorknob and the lock. "What are you doing?" he asked Ororo sharply.

She paused from her inspection, casting Vega a small look over her shoulder before setting back to work. "I am checking the lock," she said, taking a seat in front of the door.

She crossed her legs, reaching out to touch the door knob. She quarter-turned the knob one way and then turned it the other. She tilted her head to the side slightly. She seemed to be listening for something. She pulled her hand back and placed both hands in her lap thoughtfully, but she didn't move away from the door.

"I can assure you that the door _is_ locked," he said, perhaps a little more acerbically that he'd intended. He heard her snort softly at his comment.

"Is that sarcasm I detect, Vega?" Ororo said, turning to give him a small smile.

She was actually glad to see him showing some spark of himself. Things had been weird since they entered the city. The nightmares, the insane ramblings, the self-injury—she wasn't quite prepared for any of it. Up to that point, she'd known that Vega had problems; she just hadn't known how deep-seated they truly were. The partial return of his arrogance assured her that he wouldn't let _this_ destroy him—for now.

She was grateful for the different sides he was starting to show, though. He wanted her to believe that he was incapable of human emotion, but she knew otherwise. He had his problems, but he wasn't beyond redemption. Each day they spent together proved that. He claimed that he didn't value life, yet he saved hers. The more they interacted, the more she started to see him differently.

"Perhaps," he mumbled.

She didn't answer as she continued her thorough inspection of the door, and his curiosity at her actions gained the better of him. He stood from his bed and walked toward her, taking a seat beside her, staring at her rather than the door. He tried to ignore the slight tingle she sent through him. She didn't seem to realize he'd moved to sit right beside her. He wanted to touch her, to stir her from her deliberating thoughts.

Then, she turned to look at him, a vague smile still curving her lips, and he wondered how her lips would feel against his while she held that Mona Lisa smile. _Ugh, paltry emotions_, he reminded himself. She caused a conflict in him; he _didn't_ like it. "What are you doing?" he asked her again with a softer tone, distracting himself.

"I used to be a thief when I was a child living on the streets," she said absently, not quite answering his question.

Or maybe she had. He looked at the door again, trying to see it as a thief would. She was trying to figure out a method of escape. He itched to ask her what she'd figured out, but he didn't want to give himself a sense of false hope. "I can't imagine you as a thief."

"It was a long time ago. I was an orphan. I did whatever was necessary to insure my survival. I know you think I am one-dimensional because of my beliefs regarding evil, but I have seen and done my fair share of it—even if it was only to survive. Some of those old tricks I was taught as a child still linger."

"Ororo, about what happened earlier—"

"Let's not discuss that, Vega." She wasn't quite ready to discuss what happened between Bison and her, and she didn't want him to dredge up more bad memories on her account. If she were really meant to know his secrets, she would in time. "I helped you. You helped me. We are even."

The silence swallowed them, as they lost themselves to their respective thoughts—each chiding themselves silently for spending far too much time thinking about the other when there were more pressing matters at hand, such as escape. Once or twice, their eyes awkwardly found their paths clashing. She would look away quickly, but he wouldn't. They were no longer concerned about the door—not that he'd been concerned about it in the first place.

"Do you like me?" he asked suddenly. He wasn't sure why he asked. He found himself fighting a constant battle where he'd tell himself that he didn't really care about her or what she thought about him. "Do you _really_ like me as a person and not because of our situation? When this is all over, will you try to forget that you met me?"

Why would he ask her such a thing when he told himself that he would bury this experience with their escape? Hadn't he told himself that he would forget her once this was over? How could he, though? How was he supposed to forget? She looked at him, squinting her eyes in concentration, scrutinizing him as she'd done the door, and he felt as if she was picking him apart with her eyes.

That was an odd question for Vega to ask her, and one that she hadn't expected from him. "I know we have had our differences since meeting, but I do not despise you. And yes, I do like you despite everything that has happened…" She trailed off before she could say "between us." She touched his arm softly, letting her fingers linger there.

"Even if I decide to return to my former life?" He searched her face for an inkling of scattered thoughts at the fact that he might return to his life, the life he'd had before he'd been kidnapped by Sagat, but true to herself, she didn't betray much of anything. Her eyes were compassionate but unhelpful in his search to seek out her feelings.

"Is that truly what you wish to return to?" she asked him. Her voice held a little disapproval but didn't pass judgment. It was more like a mother scolding a child than a do-gooder preaching about the wiles of evil.

He merely shrugged. "Maybe." He didn't sound too convinced himself.

"Why would you wish to return to this life after what they've done to you?" she asked.

"Because it is all I know," he said. How could he hope to change it? What else could he do? He excelled at killing. His whole life was one violent streak. What would he do now that he didn't have a mission? He'd had a mission most of his life, something to strive to achieve. That was no more. He didn't like these new feelings of self-doubt.

"You are your own person, and if your life before this experience is what you want to continue to do, I cannot change your mind. However, there is no way I could leave this experience and pretend that I had never met you, and it would not change the many facets of you I have seen during this time," she answered.

"Why do you like me, though, Ororo? You know what lies in my heart." He noticed the small space between them had diminished considerably. She was so close to him that she could smell the dull scent of the shampoo she'd used early that morning. It mingled with her own natural, fresh scent. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that these emotions—whatever he felt—were weak, useless.

"Yes, I am well aware of what you are capable of," she touched his face softly, and he didn't pull away from her. He knew she would never do anything to mar his face, to harm him. "But that doesn't mean I believe you are a lost cause. Look how far we have made it without killing one another. Look at everything we have managed to overcome together. At this moment, I truly do like you as a person, even a friend. The after part doesn't matter at this point."

Once again, they found themselves too close for comfort, lips begging to graze the other's. He turned his head before the kiss was sealed, looking away from her. "Ororo, I'm not ready for this," he said tightly without pulling away from her. He could feel her sweet breath on the side of his face. All he had to do was turn his head, and he could claim her lips for his own.

He still found himself warring within himself where she was concerned, however. The implication of what wanted to happen between them still conflicted with his experiences and his feelings. He couldn't give her whatever she hoped to garner from him, anyway. Besides, _they_ were watching—undoubtedly waiting for a moment like this to leer at. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

He stood from his seat beside her, ignoring the almost hurt look she gave him, offering no explanation. He just needed to put a little space between them again.

"I know," she said, sounding almost sheepish, "and I should not be so aggressive with you. I am sorry." She wasn't quite sure what it was that made her gravitate toward him when she should've been repulsed by him. She would admit that he did frighten her, even repulsed her, at times. And she could've left it at that, believing that was all the substance he had to him—except it wasn't.

He wanted to laugh at her use of the word "aggressive." She wasn't nearly as aggressive as she would like to believe. He knew aggressive women, mostly his female fans who mauled him in packs after a bullfight or a cage match. She wasn't what he considered particularly aggressive, but she did stir other feelings that he considered equally as dangerous.

Such frail emotions, but his argument against them was beginning to weaken. How could he hope to make it out of this alive if he succumbed to his whims? For years, he'd engrained in himself that "self" came before all others. Caring for others only caused careless mistakes. He needed her help, but he also needed to keep her at a distance. Caring for her might prove to be lethal.

He watched her as she stood. Walking toward the barred window, she grasped two between her hands and looked out. The streets were still alive with commotion, the sounds drifting into their room. No one ever really slept in Shadowloo. She wasn't looking at the hubbub below, though. Instead, she looked at the starry sky, and he felt a temperature drop in the room, cool enough to cause a slight chill to pulse through him. However, she didn't seem to notice the sudden drop.

The cavities of Ororo's brain itched. It only did that when Jean was trying to speak to her telepathically. She let go of the bars, pulling away from the window. The signal was weak, but it was there. She felt it. She stood motionless in the room, trying to concentrate as hard as she could on Jean, to send her a mental distress signal. That meant Jean was near. She could make out fuzzy words in her head. It was all confusing conversation.

"What's wrong," Vega asked, fearing that she would collapse again. She closed her eyes tightly, and he worried.

"Shhh!" she hissed at him. "I am trying to hear." She closed off all sound by covering her ears. She could hear Jean's voice faintly in her head, calling to her.

Vega watched her, wondering what she was listening for. He heard nothing but the commotion from below and the occasional cough of the guard guarding the door. She was smiling now.

"…are you…" Jean's voice trailed in her head, fading in and out like a radio with bad reception. "…coming to save you… really worried… Logan's already on his way…" Ororo made out that last line clearly and her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to transmit her own thoughts and hoped that Jean was about to get the vital information.

Jean didn't respond and Ororo wanted to scream. They were so close, had to be for Jean to contact her. Yet, it still seemed like they were a million miles away. And she'd said that Logan was "already on his way." She wondered if he'd foolishly left the others in search of her. When she saw him, she would chide him for being so careless. Afterward, she would kiss him for being so careless.

She turned to Vega, her heart thudding hard in her chest. They would be free soon. "My friends are here. They are on their way."

_Free._ The word sounded to foreign to his ears, but even stranger was this word "friends." He knew about her old life in New York, about the people she called family. Her last statement made it more real. There were people out there that cared enough about her to follow her to this sump. He couldn't say the same. Besides her, who wanted to see him alive? "How do you know this?" he asked.

"I can hear my friend in my mind," she answered. She could still feel a slight tingling in her head. Jean was still trying to reach her, and she was doing the best she could to concentrate on her friend. Panic and relief rushed through her, making her heart bang heavily against her chest. So close, they were so close… "They are close, but not close enough. It's hard to hear her."

He remembered her mentioning a telepath. His mind still struggled to grasp the concept of "mutants." Before her, talk of mutants hadn't produced favorable images in his mind. He'd seen what she was capable of, but he still hadn't been able to wrap his mind around it. And perhaps he hadn't really thought about it because it scared him a little to think about it.

But now, he would meet others like her. Or would he? What would her friends make of him once they met face to face? They're not the ones who'd been caged like an animal with him. They wouldn't understand him. He couldn't expect the same amount of tolerance from them as she had shown him. His best bet would be to go his own way, if they really were able to save them.

He admired their tenacity, but he didn't know how they'd fare against someone like Bison. Sagat had fooled them once, and he'd probably pay for his deception. But Bison was a new playing field. Shadowloo was Bison's domain, and he would rather die, to destroy everything he'd built, than to succumb to people like the X-Men. He felt like one of Bison's staunch zealots for thinking that, but it was the truth.

"You look worried, Vega," Ororo said, bringing him out of grim thoughts.

He wouldn't look at her. He focused his eyes on his hands.

"I'm not worried," he said, pulling a tight smile. "I am just thinking about what I'll do once I get out of here." That wasn't the truth. Eventually, their worlds would collide, and he didn't know who the victor would be. He didn't want to crush her hope. Funny he should worry about something like "hope."

"And that worries you," she pressed. She knew something was on his mind, and with everything he was dealing with, it seemed better for him to get it all out.

He did worry about it. If they managed to make it out of Shadowloo alive, would he ever get a moment's peace, or would he always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the deathblow from some unknown assailant? He'd leave Shadowloo only to become a prisoner in the world. No matter where he went they'd follow if Bison _really_ wanted him dead.

"I find it hard not to with the possibility of freedom so near." He nearly stumbled over the word "freedom." She muttered something under her breath. He thought he'd heard her invite him to stay with them. He couldn't have heard her right, and if he had, it had to be a unsubstantial offer meant only to make him feel better. "What?"

"I said, you could come stay with us a while until you got yourself together." She said this as if it were his only obvious course of action, as if she invited people to stay with them every day. It was a hell of a thing for her to offer. He wasn't sure if he was offended or appreciative for the offer. Either way, it was a curious thing for her to offer.

"Me?" Him? Around other people whose sole purpose wasn't to serve Bison? Around children no less? Had she lost any bearings she might've had left? She meant to domesticate him?

He didn't think it was possible. He'd never been much of a social person. His "temperance" didn't allow for much social interaction with those outside of Bison's droves. Then again, being part of Bison's initiative didn't make you kindred souls. You talked business, never pleasure, or else you didn't talk at all. It was like living in a hive that thrived on a hive mindset. You acted as one mind. They were drones who operated under one man—Bison.

"I wasn't aware there was anyone else in the room," she said. She almost regretted saying it. Perhaps, her compassion had gone too far. If he chose to accept such an offer, how would she explain him to the others? She couldn't lie about who he was. That would be a great injustice to her family and friends. Even if she smoothed it over with the others, what if he hadn't really changed?

Captivity left him vulnerable, dependent on someone other than himself, just like her. Who's to say that he wouldn't revert to his old ways, that she wouldn't live to regret her decision? She took pride in following her instincts. They rarely led her wrong, and she wanted to believe that she could trust her instincts now, even in such precarious times.

"I'm not even a mutant." And he wasn't sure how he'd respond to be being around many of them. While she looked normal enough, he knew there were those he didn't, and his reservations… he wasn't sure how'd he handle it.

"We have had people who weren't mutants stay with us before." She couldn't even begin to count the numerous guests they've had stay with them throughout the years. They weren't just a safe haven for mutants. They provided help for many people that seemed to need it.

"But I am evil." This was the main thing he wanted her to understand. This time together might not change him. Yes, he realized now he had to question his allegiances. Once it was over, would he truly be a changed man?

"We have had our share of evil tenants, too."

"Are you listening to what you are purposing?"

"Yes, I am well aware. I think we could help—"

"Yes, let's throw the madman in a house full of children and see what happens," he said sarcastically.

"You would not be the first." She chuckled and quickly covered her mouth with her hands, but that did nothing to suppress the titter that followed. Her shoulders shook slightly as her laughter grew from a chuckle to an all-out laugh. He hadn't heard her laugh before now. He decided he liked it.

"Is something funny?" he asked. He tried to sound disapproving, but he didn't really want her to stop laughing.

"I am sorry. I just got a mental image of you actually trying to interact with the children. I do not think the odds are in your favor."

"Are you implying that I couldn't handle children?" he asked, slightly miffed.

Ororo sat on the bed next to him. "Not before they handled you. I know a teenage girl who could smooth talk you into wearing bright red lipstick if she wanted, and smooth talking is not her mutation. Bright red might suit with you."

He wasn't sure how to take this. He hadn't really ever been the joking sort; he had never shared a joke with anyone that he could remember. Too much of his life was spent being raised in propriety that was fitting of his social status. Still, he couldn't help but smile a bit. He might get used to doing it one day.

She stopped laughing, turning to at him with a serious look. "Have you ever killed a child?" she asked. The conversation was suddenly serious again, but their talks always seemed to be more serious than anything.

"No," he said.

"Are you being honest with me?"

"I am. I have killed many people in my life both women and men, but never have I killed a child." That wasn't to say he hadn't made many children orphans, but he'd never gone as far as to kill one.

"Why?" she asked. He'd never lied to her before about anything he'd done. His answer would ease or agitate her feelings of uncertainty. She hadn't purposely roped him into this sudden change of mood, but she had to know.

"Because it has never been asked of me," he answered. That was the truth. He'd never been ordered to murder a child. He didn't know if it was because Bison's immorality did know boundaries or if it was because children didn't concern him. He'd never known Bison to have many scruples, if any, so he was certain that children didn't threaten Bison.

"And if it had would you?" Her voice was quiet and she'd turned her face back toward the window. She didn't want to look at him, fearing that he might say exactly what she didn't want hear. She seemed willing to overlook a many things. She didn't know if she could overlook something like that. The children she taught were precious to her, and she didn't like to think about how she'd react if someone hurt any of them.

"No," he said. There was something about a child innocence that made him feel guilty even entertaining the thought. Maybe it was his own lack of a childhood or maybe it was what children represented in his twisted mind.

She sighed, relieved. "You really are a puzzle. Do you know that? I just do not know about you," she said, as she stood up walking back across the room to her own cot.


	14. Trust

_**Thirteen  
Trust**_

He was broken. His soul, his body, his mind, they were all broken. He straddled the line between complete madness and sanity, between surrender and defiance, between life and death. It would be easy to submit, to give himself to his madness, to lose himself in his mind. He wanted to curl into himself and cease to exist; he wanted to till his own grave.

At the same time, part of him rebelled against that. To see him broken would only empower them more. He could see their looks of triumph when they realized what they'd done. Their smug smiles said he was weak—that he'd _always_ been weak. He couldn't give them that victory. He had to prove to them that he wasn't incapable of overcoming them, overcoming _this_.

He tried to hide his mental instability from Ororo. He knew she was aware that he wasn't well, that maybe he'd never been well. She couldn't begin to fathom the psychological torture that ripped at his brain one shred at a time the longer he stayed confined in the complex. He didn't care what he'd have to do to escape, even if it meant death.

Being an initiate at Bison's camp had been torment enough. Now, he was a prisoner, and he didn't want to think about what might happen if they didn't leave soon. Bison didn't have a soul; he'd been born without one. It was funny accusation for him to make against Bison considering that people often said the same thing about him. He had his limits even if he claimed not to. Bison didn't. _Nothing_ could break Bison down, not even the thought of defeat.

She didn't know what to expect from Bison. She'd never dealt with Bison. She was going into this blindsided by that swine, Sagat. She'd already had a taste, been pushed into the realization that Bison did whatever he wanted because he felt he was _entitled_ to it. She'd only gotten a glimpse of Bison's soul. Should he decide to bare it all, there would be nothing Sagat could do to save her.

He hoped her friends _were_ coming for them. He hoped her friends were able to help them, but he wouldn't put too much faith into the rescue. They could all end up dead in the process. Maybe it was their fate to die at Bison's hands. It was hardly the noble death he imagined for himself, but he realized honorable or not, death was death. The end. No more. He couldn't grapple it.

He shivered on his bed, pulling the thin sheet under his chin. He closed his eyes tightly, willing sleep to come, but at the same time, he feared what dreams lay in wait for him. He couldn't fully give himself over to sleep, not with his tormenting memories and not with Ororo pacing the floor rapidly. He opened his eyes again as she started her steady trek across the floor again.

Ororo was restless. She'd sit for a moment only to stand up and start pacing the floors again. She was anxious about her friends. He didn't blame her, but the constant sound of her feet shuffling over the floor was starting to make him anxious as well. "Will you please sit down?" he asked her.

She paused in mid-step and looked at him. She didn't hear any command in his voice, only weariness. "I did not mean to keep you up," she said, sitting down on the cot.

"I'm not ready for sleep, yet," he murmured, though his lids played heavily above his eyes. He forced his eyes opened. "You are making me nervous, though. Pacing is not going to make your friends arrive any faster."

"Such sage advice." She tried to sound lighthearted, teasing even, but she was tense. She itched to do something to get them out of this situation. Her friends would join them soon, but she had to be more proactive in finding a way to escape the situation. And she had to start doing it _now_. "Tell me about this place."

"What do you want to know?" he murmured in a half-sleep daze.

"Why do you hate this place?" she asked.

Sleep released him as swiftly as it tried to claim him. He sat up on his cot, suddenly, shooting a glare in her direction. "How dare you," he started, but found himself unable to finish his thoughts as his heart dropped like lead. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the rush of emotions that followed her question.

"I am sorry," she said softly.

She watched his feelings dash across his face—anger, betrayal, but most of all, pain. Maybe she'd pressed him before he was ready. She wanted to understand his hatred of this place. Perhaps, she'd been too brusque; perhaps, she should've eased into the question rather than dropping it on him suddenly. She wished she could take it back.

"Why don't you ask your lover why I hate this place?" He graced her with a vindictive smile.

She winced at his use of the word _lover_. "I do not want to hear his version of _your_ truth," she said. Anything Sagat would tell her would only be tempered by his thoughts on the situation. Vega had to know this. He had to know that what happened to him would only be described in mocking by Sagat. He would try to trivialize Vega's feelings. It was his nature, as it was with any ruthless predator.

"I won't talk about it." His words dropped like a gavel following a final verdict. The resolution on his face was absolute. She wouldn't get another word out of him about his time spent in the compound.

"I did not mean to pry. I only wanted to grasp—" The cold, hard look he shot her way made her words stop abruptly.

"There is nothing to _grasp_!" he yelled at her, his tone agitated.

He wanted to scream at her to just leave it alone. There was nothing for her to comprehend; there was nothing she could do to soothe the situation, to make it better. What did she think she could do? Give him a rousing speech on not letting his experience define him? It already had. It had already shaped him to his core. She could save her penny-ante pep speeches for her friends.

"Forget it," she said, lowering her voice to a mumble. She held up her hands in assent. She wanted to diffuse the situation as quickly as she could. His mind was fragile, and she didn't want to push him to violence.

"Forget it?" he asked, seething. "Forget what? Forget you asked me? Or should I forget what happened to me? You ask me why I hate this place and then you tell me to forget it when you don't find the answers you seek." He pulled his lips into an angry, thin line, clutching his fists at his side.

"That is not fair. I did not mean to upset you, and I did not mean to make light of you or what happened to you in any way. I accept you do not want to talk about it." She thought it best to leave out the part about fearing he'd snap. "Do you really think I would intentionally do anything to hurt you?"

His nostrils flared, but he didn't answer her. He knew she wouldn't, but he couldn't help his strong reaction to the question. Still, he could feel his face burning in anger.

"I worry about you, Vega, and I ask these things because I _care_," she said, knowing she might be pressing her luck. Didn't he understand that by now? She talked to him, comforted him, tried to bond with him on some basic level because she _cared_ about him. "I do not mean to slight you."

"I know," he finally said, trying to calm his anger. Maybe it wasn't for her. Maybe his anger had never been for her. It just hurt. God, did it hurt. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. "I have more faith in you than that."

"Do you trust me, Vega?" she asked.

He was silent for a moment. "Yes," he said. He did trust her. His trust didn't come easy; distrust was easier to manage because you were always prepared for the worst; distrust was easier to manage because he was always prepared for the worst. He always believed people had some hidden reason for doing the things they did, but she seemed to have none.

"Good. Remember that trust and know that I would _never_ betray it," she said, standing up from her cot. She walked over to the door and started banging as hard as she could.

"What are you doing?" he asked alarmed.

A guard opened the door, weapon poised for action. She didn't flinch. "You tell Victor—" She paused when the guard looked at her confused. "Tell _Sagat_ that I want to see him, and I want to see him, _right now._"

———

"You live with the goddess?" Elena implored over the campfire. He missed the impish looked she gave him.

They'd finally stopped after the headlights refused to penetrate the darkness any further. He hadn't wanted to stop, of course, but he knew he had to. He was starting to hate this jungle. It was almost like a living person doing everything it could to keep him from his goal. Figures it would be on Sagat's side, too. They'd just finished eating some of the food they'd packed—okay, she'd packed it since he'd barely been able to think.

"Yeah—"

"Oh, that's so _romantic_!" she cried, starting to gush.

God, this girl sure was easily wound up. "It ain't like that, kid. We all live at the school, not just me an' her. We're teammates, _friends_," he explained. He could tell by that goofy look on her face that she didn't believe a word of it. Eh, let her believe what she wanted.

Elena winked at him. "Sure, Mr. Logan. Whatever you say," she said with a giggle.

She stretched out on the ground looking up at the stars. It really was uncanny how much she looked like Ororo—a younger, _chattier_ Ororo, that is. A few moments of silence passed between them. "Why are ya here, princess?" he asked.

She sighed when she called her that. It wasn't her name. How many times did she have to tell him that? "I'm here for a tournament, a fighting tournament," she said as she sat up, crossing her long legs under her.

"Why would ya wanna watch a bunch o' assholes beatin' the crap outta each other?" he asked.

"I wasn't going to be a spectator. I was going to be a participant," she said with a self-satisfied smile.

Logan snorted. Why was he _not _surprised that she wanted to take part in a fighting tournament? Oh yeah, he could just see her blowing a kiss at some hard-as-stone fighter and giggling all the while. She was a decent fighter, though. He'd give her that, and with that healing ability, she might actually take it home. "Oh, I'm sure yer dad loved that one."

"He doesn't know I'm here. He thinks I'm spending my school holiday in London with my friend, Narumi. I go to school in Japan, even though I wanted to go to America or France. He said America was too barbaric and France was too liberal. And he said he'd know since he went to school in France, and he's been to America." She shrugged at him and picked up a stick. She started stirring the fire.

"Hey, he's yer dad. He's just wants ta keep ya safe an' make sure ya turn out okay," Logan said.

"Whatever. He says I shouldn't fight in tournaments. I should only fight to defend myself, to defend our home. I just think he doesn't think I'm skilled enough. I wanted to prove to him that I was as good as the world's fighters."

Her voice was solid steel. He'd never heard her be so serious. She was always laughing and talking up a hurricane. Now, she seemed a little reserved as the flames from the fire flickered in her eyes. "An' what did ya plan ta tell him if ya got hurt?" he asked.

"I hadn't really thought of that." She put her finger to her chin and looked up at the sky, crinkling one eyebrow, as if she was really considering his question for the first time. She was a kid, and they never thought their brilliant ideas out until they got in so much shit that they had no choice but to come clean. He'd seen in happen a million times. "I was relying on my healing abilities to help me make it through the tournament, but I was going to tell him _after_ I won the tournament."

He chuckled. And she had a lot of confidence in herself and her abilities. He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing in her case. She was optimistic instead of arrogant, so maybe it wasn't a bad thing. "An' what if ya don't win the tournament?" he asked.

"I hadn't thought of that either." She scrunched up her face in a thoughtful way, again, then shrugged his way, as if to say it was no consequence to her.

"Of course not." He half-smiled.

"I guess I'll go to London like I originally planned," she said. Or at least, she would have, but things were different now. She had something more important than the tournament to worry about.

"Do ya still plan ta enter this tournament?" He already knew the answer to that one, but he just had to ask.

"Oh no, I'm going to help you find the goddess." She smiled at him with that big, silly grin he'd grown used to since she decided to attach herself to his hip. "I think it's destiny!" It was just too convenient that she was in Thailand at the same time that the goddess was in trouble. It was fate. She just knew it. She laughed to herself. Narumi was always teasing her about her idealistic notions that everything was "fate," but what else could it be?

"She likes ta be called Ororo these days," Logan said.

"I can't help it. I'll always remember her as the goddess my people worshipped, the goddess who saved us."

She cherished the stories her people always told about the goddess, her courageousness, her compassion, her strength of will. She could only hope to be half the person the goddess was. She could only pray that she could bring her people the same kind of hope that the goddess had. She knew when they looked at her they saw their savior reborn. She didn't know if she was quite ready for that responsibility or if she even deserved that reverence from them.

But fate saw fit to bless her with more than just the goddess' look. She couldn't be the earth mother her people talked about so respectfully, but her hands could bring healing. She knew she had a long way to go before she was able to fully use her power, but she would learn. And this school that he talked about sounded like the place she needed.

"Why don't ya just go ta London, princess? I can handle this," he said on a much more serious note. She was getting herself into something that could be far more dangerous than her fighting tournament. Could he really let this girl go through with this? He knew she was capable, but they were walking into a death trap. How would he be able to explain letting her come along to anyone—most of all, to himself—especially if she got hurt?

"I already told you that I _wanted_ to see this through to the end. I want to help, and I don't care if you don't want me to help. I'm going to help, anyway." More steel resolve laced her words.

"Where'd ya really learn about Bison and Sagat? An' don't give me that bullshit about listening." He changed the subject, not wanting to get into that conversation again.

"Well… it's true. I learned about them from some of the old competitors from the Street Fighter tournament. Sagat used to compete. So did the guy with the claw and this big boxer guy who looks like Mike Tyson. They work for Bison." She threw the stick aside and started staring back into the fire.

The boxer, he remembered that son-of-a-bitch. That was the bastard who attempted to take his head clean off with his fists. Good thing he was resilient, and if he ever saw that bastard face to face again, he could promise him that things would go a lot differently.

"They were the higher tier of fighters. The last three you had to go through to consider yourself the winner. Then, Bison added himself to the lineup, challenging all the world's fighters to defeat him, to stop him from completing his madness. It was an ego thing. He didn't really want to be stopped," she said, turning her eyes to him.

"Lemme guess. Nobody defeated him."

"That's the funny thing. Someone actually did defeat him. His name was Ryu. Bison went underground for a while after that. I think he was just embarrassed, but now, the locals say that Bison in action. I say, he never went out of action. He just stopped being so bold about what he was doing."

Figures, real villains never gave up. She had a point, though. The mega-villains of the world never let a defeat set them back. They regrouped and tweaked the plans. "The locals actually talked ta ya? An' why didn't ya tell me all this before?" he asked. How in the world had she gotten those assholes to talk? He couldn't even get them to talk.

"I didn't know if you were really her friend." She hadn't wanted to feed the wrong information to him if he was only looking to hurt her, but she knew he wasn't, now.

"Back to this guy with the claw. Ya saw him fightin' with Ororo, but ya say he works fer Bison?"

"Not anymore. Why else would he have been in the pit with the goddess? He's being punished for something. I heard he was an assassin for Bison, and that he was crazy, and that he drank blood like a vampire." She closed one eye, thinking hard about all the things she'd heard about the guy. "I think his name is Vegan."

"Vegan? Like the people who don't eat any animal byproducts." He snorted.

"No, wait. Vega… that's his name. He's kind of cute, too, but I heard he isn't well mentally. I don't know how true that is. I mean, the locals think the goddess is a witch. How could they think that about her? She brought nothing but joy to my people's lives," she said, her voice imbued with passion. "But don't worry, Mr. Logan. I don't think he'll hurt her."

He hated it when she called him "Mr. Logan." He thought it might be revenge for calling her "princess." He sighed. "No, I'm not gonna worry that my friend might be holed up with a psycho," Logan said sarcastically.

"I don't think he'll hurt her," she repeated. "He helped her get that collar thing off, after all."

"Yeah," Logan mumbled. "That shows real character."

"Well, that's not the only reason I don't think he'll hurt her…" She trailed. She wasn't really sure if she should tell him what else she heard, and it was really just conjecture on her part as to why she didn't think Vega wouldn't hurt her.

"Spill it, princess." She was rarely reluctant to talk, but now, she seemed a little closed.

"Okay, after you went to sleep, I did some snooping. There are people who will talk. You just have to know how to find them," she said. It would help if he stopped growling at everyone like a bear, too.

Obviously, he was going to have to watch her more. Then again, maybe that made her useful for something. She'd gotten more out of them in a couple of hours than he had during both of his trips there. He'd started to believe that Sagat had these people wrapped so tight that they didn't believe they had any other choice but to pledge their loyalty to him.

"So, what's that gotta do with anythin'?" he asked.

"Let me finish. I heard that Sagat and the goddess were once together. I'm pretty sure that, at least, is true." She looked at him apologetically. She stood up and started pacing. "That was a long time ago, though."

Together—he let that settle for a moment. He didn't like it, but it made sense. That explained her odd actions during their earlier trip there. She knew Sagat, and she knew he was capable of. She might've even felt responsible for Jubilee being snatched. "Okay, keep goin'."

"So, why would Vega hurt her? He could to get back at Sagat, of course, but then, he'd only seal his fate. She's quite possibly the _only_ thing keeping him alive. I don't think he's stupid. He has a better chance getting away from Sagat if he doesn't hurt her. But those are just my thoughts," she said, sitting down again.

"I think yer actually on ta somethin', princess." That was pretty good for someone who giggled most of the day. Those cogs in her head really were working. And for Ororo's sake, he hoped she was right. And if she wasn't right…

God help them.

———

Jean was frustrated. She'd only been able to glean bits and pieces of information about Shadowloo from stray thoughts. She'd tried to contact Ororo, and she _felt_ she'd made the connection to her. However, she hadn't been able to hear Ororo, so she could only hope that her thoughts had gotten through to her friend. She was tired, and her powers weren't aiding her as well as she'd wished. She'd spent the better part of the night trying to massage a knot from her shoulder while Scott soldiered on.

And there wasn't just Ororo to worry about, but Logan, as well. She hadn't been able to reach him at all. She had no idea where he was or if he was even okay. After she rested, she would be able to concentrate better, and she'd be able to make a better connection with her friends. A small voice told her she could expend the necessary energy to find them if she wanted, but she'd only leave herself open to the possibility of being consumed with forces best left dormant.

She didn't know if there was time for rest, though. They couldn't be fatigued if they planned to help Ororo, but time laughed at them. They were already behind. What do they do? How do they decide what the best course of action was? "I told him to stand down," Scott grumbled behind her, bringing her out of her disturbed thoughts.

Jean shook her head at him. "Did you really expect him to follow orders?" she asked. Scott forgot that he was rational, his brain constantly processed information. Logan acted on emotion, rarely weighing the consequences of his actions. She knew Scott worried they would be overwhelmed if both Ororo and Logan were in trouble.

"He can't just believe that he can take on the whole goddamned—"

"Do you think they're okay?" she asked, cutting him off.

Scott stopped long enough to look at Jean's stricken expression. He tried not to think about that, had told himself that both Ororo and Logan were fine, but she voiced his fears. He'd tried to run on command mode only because he didn't want to think about the possibilities. "I don't know," he said quietly, reaching for Jean's hand.

———

_**Author's notes:**_ As usual, I have taken a few liberties. I'm editing some things in earlier chapters—nothing major. Just doing a little tweaking here and there. Inspiration for this chapter: "Weak and Powerless (Tilling My Grave Mix)" by A Perfect Circle.


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